


Talon of the Empire - The Resolve

by Doncaster (Edgeford), Edgeford



Series: Talon of the Empire [1]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Compliant, Complete, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28406604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edgeford/pseuds/Doncaster, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edgeford/pseuds/Edgeford
Summary: In the years after Endor, the Empire did not simply give up and die. It clung on to life, perhaps long after it should have let go. Countless loyal men fought with her, some out of devotion, others out of fear, others because they had no where else to go. One such officer was Talon Rake, fresh out of the academy he began his service with the Empire he had grown up in already collapsing.  But he would cling on for all his worth. This was how it began.(A repost of a historic work begun in 2011 on another site)
Series: Talon of the Empire [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080509
Kudos: 1





	1. A Vital Lesson

Space, a great eternal sea of darkness characterised by the occasional star or planet. It has been a symbol of hope and adventure for many, terror and foreboding for others. But for now, drifting through space near the small and cold world of Melvor, a world characterised by great rolling plains of tundra, was the Acclamator II class ship Resolve. She was an old vessel, part of the first wave of her class commissioned by the Old Republic at the dawn of the Clone War and though she had been refitted several times, both to take up a more combat orientated role and to move with ever improving technology, her age was showing. Burns from glancing laser hits marred her Imperial grey hull and a great plate of protective armour had been crudely welded on to her top deck where an equally great hole had once been ripped in her. She was over forty years old now and whilst she was once the terror of the skies now, in the year 7 ABY, she was looking very small and very fragile.

She was crewed by men who remained loyal to the Galactic Empire. A brave cadre of service men and women who refused to recognise the legitimacy of the New Republic and who, in many cases, refused to recognise their defeat. But despite their stubbornness they were not fools. They and their commanders knew that this ship could not hope to compete in a fight against a modern vessel from the New Republic and as ancient as she was the Remnant of the Galactic Empire could not afford to just throw ships away. So vessels like this were often posted as patrol ships in safe systems or given the task of sneaking into enemy systems and attacking vulnerable merchant, supply and civilian convoys. It was not glamorous work but it helped to slow the New Republic down.

It was on one of these raiding missions that the Resolve was currently embarked. Ships like this, some of the most unimportant in the fleet, were crewed by two types of men. The senior crew tended to be experienced veterans, with years of combat under their belt, whilst the junior crew were made of fresh faced youths straight from training. The idea was that the experienced old men would teach the new crew all sorts of tips and tricks and thus greatly raise the standard of the new men. Also it meant the new crewmen, forced to make do with the oldest of equipment, would swiftly learn how to get the most from their technology greatly improving their efficiency when on more modern vessels.

It also meant that the senior crew had all sorts of useful skills and abilities. One of which was a talent almost any serviceman learns to pick up if they want to last more than a year, the ability to sense danger. It was like a sixth sense to some of the older dogs here and right now it was screaming at them. The Resolve had been on her mission for over a month now, she had managed to evade New Republic war ships in the area and had been able to intercept a number of unescorted convoys and was therefore responsible for the loss of over a million tonnes of cargo. But now, the Republic was hunting the Resolve and it was only a matter of time until they were found.

The commander of the Resolve, Commander Aeron, was standing on the bridge, pensively staring out into the blackness. He saw danger now in everything but could keep calm, to show his nerves to the crew would have been a mistake. But, he decided to voice his concerns to one man in particular. Lieutenant Talon Rake. Talon was one of the younger, less experienced crew but had done exceedingly well in his class and taken the top grade. This, coupled with a fierce loyalty to the Empire and always giving his utmost efforts in the discharge of his duties, had led to early promotion. But he still lacked real world experience. Commander Aeron saw the potential in this young man and had been keen to nurture it during their long mission.

Talon smartly approached the Commander and came to attention behind him. He was not a remarkable man, slightly less than six feet tall but made the best use out of every inch of it with his ridged posture. Nor was he particularly well built and his skin was slightly pale. He had a face like an eagle, his nose hard and hooked, his imposing brow seemed permanently furrowed. His cheeks were slightly sunken and his jaw was sharp. But his grey blue eyes seemed to stare out from their pits with an intensity that bore into your soul.

"You sent for me sir." Said the man, curtly. The Commander turned to face him, with a slowness that amplified his years and experience. The Commander was not a particularly old man, he was only in his late thirties. But a hard war and the burden of command had taken their toll. His face looked haggard well beyond his years and his brow seemed to also be perpetually folded in a look of grim concentration. But he stayed upright, he stayed smart and he stayed authoritative.

"Yes young Mr Rake I did. Tell me young sir, how many ships do you estimate we have destroyed or immobilized in the past month?"

"Forty three sir." The answer was instant and to the point. The Commander seemed momentarily impressed with his instant recall of the facts but this was Talon he was talking to, he probably had the dates of every engagement in his head as well as the munition expenditure and damage reports. So instead he merely replied evenly.

"Quite so Mr Rake. So, what do you think is out there?"

"The enemy sir. They cannot stop running convoys through this region, but they will be escorted now. They will also have assigned a task force to hunt us down. We can expect at least one cruiser at the centre of a loose network of spotter ships moving in a grid pattern." The commander gave a little smile at the answer and a silent chuckle. Talon was right but it could have been an answer from a text book. Had the Commander asked his second in command the question the answer would simply have been, trouble.

Still smiling the commander asked with a tiny hint of gently mocking smugness."

"Quite so Mr Rake. But where are they?" It was a question the Commander knew the man could not answer but he was going to let the lad say it himself.

"I do not know sir." At least the boy did not try to guess the answer or bluff his way out of it, the Commander could appreciate someone who admitted their ignorance. Gesturing out at the great empty void of space the commander seemed to pause for effect before saying.

"We are squatting near the centre of their web, there is only light convoy activity near this desolate world but it is a little off the centre of the crisscrossing trade routes linking up the more important planets in the region. It is not a place worth attacking so it will not be watched by the spotter ships, but it is such an obvious place to hide that only a fool would shelter here and the New Republic knows the Empire does not put fools in command of these missions." The Commander wore a sly little smile and looked at Talon, attempting to impress on him the importance of understanding the mind of the enemy, not just the strength of their ships and formations.

Talon gave a nod of understanding but he was forced to ask the obvious question.

"But the centre of the enemy web is the most logical place for the cruiser to be, waiting where it can most rapidly respond to a developing scenario." The Commander nodded sagely, the youthful Lieutenant was right.

"Indeed that is so young lad and the cruiser will come here just to rule out this world from the search but it will not expect to find anything. There is no place to hide here and any hyperdrive jump would be detected. So instead, we wait for the strength in their task force to come to us, unprepared for a fight. If we act quickly and the crew gives their utmost, we may be able to disable their engines for a day or two, even an hour would be more than sufficient to allow us to make our escape from this system and the spotter ships will not dare pursue a vessel which has just immobilised a cruiser."

Talon gave a single, sharp nod to indicate he had grasped what his commander was saying. He had to learn to do what his enemy was expecting least in scenarios such as this and what the enemy was expecting least was for you to come at him at his strongest. It was a daring strategy and not one that he fully approved of, but he understood the principle. Besides his approval was not required, he was an officer of the Empire and would always obey an order no matter how ill-conceived he might think it to be. But understanding the mind of the enemy was not the real lesson that the Commander was trying to teach.

No, the Commander was also trying to get Talon to appreciate the sensations that went hand in hand with this situation.

"What do you feel Lieutenant?" The question confused Talon at first and he answered inappropriately.

"I feel…fine sir." Talon’s mild bewilderment at the question was obvious and it prompted the Commander to smile, shaking his head with a gentle sigh.

"No no lieutenant, not how do you feel. What do you feel? Stay still and listen to everything around you and feel the air on the back of your hands. The crew sound different and there is a charge in the air, the feeling you get before the storm. It may sound alien to you but these techniques work and let me tell you the enemy are coming. Remember this feeling young sir, remember it well. It will save your life one day."

There was a pause whilst Talon digested this information, he remained unconvinced and the look on his brow showed as much. The young officer may have been keen to learn and desperate not to seem stupid or worse yet disrespectful towards his seniors, but he could not mask his disbelief. But the Commander took it all in good humour.

"You will learn young sir. You will learn. But for now we must be ready for the fight. Kindly inspect the torpedo tubes."

"Yes sir!" Came the Lieutenant's smart reply. That was the type of order he knew how to follow.

With a single sharp yet fluid motion Talon turned on his heel and marched off of the bridge like he would a parade ground. The young officer started striding through the cramped corridors of the Resolve. Old vessels like this had tight enough corridors any way but the situation was made worse by the piles of coil, piping and wires stacked in the halls. A ship this old was permanently being repaired and as soon as one system was restored another one would fail. Thankfully, the crew managed to keep all the essential systems running, just about, but there was no denying that this ship was well past her best. Men came to attention as he passed by, respectful of his rank. Just because the ship was falling apart was no reason to let discipline crumble along with it.

When he reached the torpedo room in the forward lower decks of the ship he set about inspecting the loading mechanisms for the giant ship to ship torpedoes. Primary lighting had long ago failed in this room and the few crewmen condemned to work here had to do so in eerie red emergency lighting which did not so much banish the shadows as make them more pronounced and sinister. The torpedoes sat in their cradles menacingly, everyone was all too aware of just what they were capable of and the machines rose up to the rafters like a strange metal forest, devoid of leaves. Add to this the creaking and groaning of straining metal when the systems were placed under any kind of load and the result was a room of grim foreboding. But Talon spent a lot of time here, everyone knew that the torpedoes would be vital in surviving any kind of encounter with a military vessel and so he was permanently checking a rechecking the systems. It was whilst he was running diagnostics on the pneumatic pistons at the base of the loading lifts that an odd chill ran over him, and the hair on the back of his hands began to stand up.


	2. Alarm!

"Alarm!" The cry rang across the bridge of the Resolve like a panicked shout. Immediately the low menacing wail of Imperial sirens began to sound out across the entire ship whilst the crew started desperately dashing to their various battle stations.

The foe that hung in the void, having just translated from hyperspace, and that now faced the Resolve was a mighty cruiser. Over a kilometre length her long form seemed oddly rounded and littered in small and irregular blisters and bulges. Toward her rear two great yet gently tapering protrusions put most observers in mind of a sodden fishes’ fins rather than a noble birds wings. The whole thing looked as though you were more likely to find it crawling along the sea bed than soaring amongst the stars. Her many irregularities and characterful design were in stark contrast to the cold uniformity of Imperial vessels.

"Enemy cruiser has jumped in, MC80 class. Fifty degrees to port horizontal plane positive seventy degrees vertical plane." Cried out a voice on the bridge. This was bad news, very bad news. The MC80 class was a proven and deadly capital ship, brimming with some of the best technology the New Republic had to offer and whilst she was not the largest class in the skies, not only was she still bigger than the Resolve, she also packed an awful big punch for her size and readily outgunned the aged Imperial war horse.

"Turn fifty five degrees to port, nose up five degrees, full speed ahead!" Ordered the Commander, standing calmly on the walk way of the bridge as his crew scuttled about in the pits beneath him. "Range?" The commander asked.

" Two hundred kilometres and closing sir!" Came the reply from somewhere down below.

"Time until ten kilometres?" Asked the Commander again in level tones.

"At current relative speeds six minutes!" The voices from bellow were starting to seem a little anxious. Given what they were currently racing towards, who could blame them.

This was the first time many of them had gone up against a new Republic Warship, up until now this mission had only involved attacking vulnerable civilian and industrial convoys. Now they were going up against a superior ship crewed by men who were presumably more experienced than most of the souls aboard the Resolve. Still the Commander remained undeterred and his calm demeanour was keeping the men's fear in check. Other experienced officers around the ship were doing much the same with their junior crew, calming them by their mere presence.

The Commander knew that this was the best opportunity that they had to escape not just this system but the entire sector and be free to hunt elsewhere in the New Republic. The Commander also felt little respect for the majority of the New Republic fleet. There was no denying that their ships were better than ever and that they had some of the best small scale task forces and small craft formations in the galaxy, Rogue Squadron being the most infamous. But he doubted the quality of most of their senior and middle grade officers. Many had never had any formal training and were thus going purely by experience, most of which was gained fighting a guerrilla style war against the Galactic Empire. Furthermore the new staff graduating out of the academies set up by the New Republic were being taught by lecturers who had never done it before and were teaching the students how to deal with a situation entirely alien to them, fighting large scale conventional fights and keeping galactic order. Add to this the fact that the Empire had not left behind any useful instructions, manuals or data which the New Republic could use to train their people and the New Republic was faced with an almost insurmountable challenge in training its officers. As a result of all of this the Commander was cautiously confident. Perhaps prematurely.

Reaching for his internal communicator the Commander spoke, in the short and curt tone of command, directly to the torpedo room where Talon had been making his inspection mere minutes earlier.

"Torpedo room, load MG1 F torpedoes. Gauge for maximum speed, range ten kilometres." Then adding in a slightly less clipped manner. "We are making one shot, just forward of her engine ports. Don't miss….Bridge out." Those last words were heavy with threat and implication. Not a threat made by the Commander against his Lieutenant, but rather illustrating the threat posed by the cruiser should Talon fail to land his shots.

Talon gave a silent and solemn nod, he understood the seriousness of his task and began the automated loading sequence for all four torpedo tubes. The MG1 F torpedo was a godsend for little ships like this. Expensive to produce but well worth the cost they were designed to allow ships such as the Resolve to punch above their weight. Modified from the standard MG1 A torpedo from the clone war the MG1 F had a higher yield and a faster speed, but crucially it projected a particle field distorter just before impact. This counteracted fully intact particle shielding which could deflect physical weapons such as torpedoes. But with a maximum range of fifteen kilometres you had to get close to the enemy in order to deploy them, surprise was essential.

Talon watched the first salvo of torpedoes load before turning to his targeting computer. The target had been designated but it was up to him to set the torpedoes speed, course and spread. He was permanently checking and re checking the enemies velocity and heading. They had been caught off guard so for the moment the foe was not moving much but that could change at any moment and throw his targeting calculations off entirely. His stomach began to feel strangely heavy as he saw the enemy cruiser turn on the spot and start to present one of her flanks, clearly preparing to fire a broadside. On the plus side this meant that they were making the target area easier to hit but it also meant that the Resolve was going to get rocked by enemy fire.

But there was another problem, wave after wave of enemy star fighters were starting to pour out from the cruiser. These had been the true strength of the Rebellion and now they were tearing towards a weak and vulnerable vessel. Their sheer number threatened to overwhelm the Resolve's defences and cripple the craft before it got close enough to fire her torpedoes.

"All available guns fire on the enemy fighters!" Ordered the Commander. He had not been anticipating fighting an MC80, or any vessel with so many on board fighters, this could be a problem. Was the New Republic really so powerful it had ships of this size to spare hunting down simple convoy raiders? No matter, the fight was here and the Commander had resolved to win it. The guns of the Resolve opened up, lighting up the blackness of space with bolts of green laser fire. The Resolve was firing too early for its guns to be truly effective and not all of the laser canons or batteries were appropriate for anti-fighter roles but if they stood even a vague chance of taking a fighter or two out of the sky at this range they were shots worth making.

The Resolve was shuddering under the strain her engine was suddenly being put under and even down in the bowels of the ship you could hear metal creek and moan under the force of the high speed course corrections. It was as if she were about to tear herself in half simply by moving let alone by being fired upon.

"Distance to target?" Asked the Commander.

"Eighteen kilometres." Came the reply "Seventy Five seconds until optimum firing range." Seventy five seconds, not long. But long enough to die. Those fighters were just getting closer and closer all the time and doing a very good job of evading the Resolve's turbo laser batteries. They were almost close enough to open fire now and had taken hardly any casualties. The Commander could only narrow his eyes, mentally bracing for the impact but refused to change course. The guns had destroyed a few X wings but the majority were slipping through the net even as the enemy ships entered optimal turbo battery range. Then, well then the X wings got their turn. The impact from their lasers caused the Resolve to quiver slightly under the blow and minor damage was caused to the hull of the aged vessel but nothing to cause any real concern.

The problem was what happened just a few seconds later. Smaller torpedoes launched by the X wings impacted at various points all along the length and breadth of the ship. The Resolve's shields were still intact but their age and poor state of repair allowed a few torpedoes to get through. Most impacted on non-vital systems but still caused the ship to rock alarmingly. Bright flashes momentarily erupted and danced over the skin of the vessel as the impacts rained across her. Some left faint trails of smoke and vapour behind, hinting at small fires and leaking liquids. One torpedo found a more vital spot to hit, and crashed straight into the deck above the torpedo room.

The impact sent machines toppling down below, a pneumatic pressure pipe snapped spraying oil into the room and smearing the walls and floor with sickly black liquid. Torpedo's shook free from their cradles and started to roll across the floor. One barrelled right towards the loading machine terminal, smashing into it with such force as to rip one side of it away and tear the delicate cables within. Automatic loading was now quite impossible. Thankfully those torpedoes already in the tubes were unaffected but there was now little chance of being able to fire a second salvo.

"Secure those torpedoes!" Cried Talon, still at the targeting computer ensuring his shots would not stray. "If those go up we will lose the entire forward section!" His junior crew started dashing around, desperately trying to catch the runaway munitions but the oil spilling out onto the floor made the task vastly more difficult as they continuously lost their footing. Under other circumstances it might have looked funny, the way they staggered and slipped around, but due to the danger it was far from amusing. But still Talon stayed at his post checking his calculations and the firing mechanisms time and time again. Flicking a switch he opened up the internal communication network. "Torpedo room to bridge. Torpedo room to bridge. We have sustained minor structural damage and the loading mechanism computer has been destroyed. We are now capable of manual loading only."

"Understood." Came the Commanders reply over the inter com. "I am dispatching repair crews. Confirm you are still able to fire the first salvo."

"Confirmed sir, we have four torpedoes loaded and ready to fire. Launch mechanisms are unaffected by the blast." The Commander seemed quite unaffected by the battle, he spoke as if he were giving instructions in a training exercise. Talon, to an outside observer, seemed much the same. But the young man could not help but wonder in the back of his mind if he was just using this formality to bottle up and conceal his worry, even from himself.

"Very good, bridge out." Replied the Commander, before cutting off the transmission. The man had bigger things to worry about.

The X wings meanwhile, were crawling all over the ship like ants, hugging the hull of the Resolve in their highly effective trench running tactics to try and limit the number being picked off by turbo lasers, and whilst a few were getting shot out of the sky most were surviving and getting dangerously close to the Resolve's shield generators. The weak shields of the Resolve could do little against the guns of an MC80, one or two broadsides was all they could take before they would lose shields. But that would be enough if their plan worked, but they could not afford to lose their shields now. If that were to happen one decent salvo would doom them. The enemy ship was still turning to present her guns, not yet in an optimum firing position whilst the Resolve tore towards it at an almost reckless speed, aiming to pass just underneath.

"Divert power from all non-essential systems to the tracking mechanisms of the turbo lasers and point defence guns." Ordered the Commander, not a hint of worry in his voice, only grim determination. Down in the pits bellow his order was carried out and the Resolve's laser turrets started turning faster, better able to track the X wings. This resulted in more of the foe being brought down and making it far harder for the X wings to get a decent run on the shield generators but still it was not enough. All it took was one lucky X wing pilot, one sloppy gunner or one over worked and poorly maintained turret to rupture a plasma feed and they would be doomed.

"Sir!" Came the voice of the second in command, Lieutenant Commander Jar, from the back of the bridge. "Engine room reports heat levels have exceeded safe operating parameters in the second and third heat control chambers. The aged heat sinks are failing too early!" The Commander just shook his head at this news and said in levelly, without even turning around.

"Ignore it, stay the course. Do not despatch repair crews yet. We must keep uncommitted repair crews back to maintain weapon and shield systems should they fail. Is the hyper drive system affected?"

"Negative sir!" Came the reply. "Only sub light engines are straining." The Commander gave a solemn nod at this but stayed silent whilst the second in command did his best to mitigate the overheating engines. "Engine room, try and divert the strain to the first heat chamber, the syncs there are freshly installed!"

"Thirty seconds to firing range!" Yelled a voice down from the pits, his nerves starting to waver under the stress of this critical moment. Made all the worse as the looming cruiser ahead completed her rotation.

"Enemy vessel has presented her flank." Came another voice from down below.

"All hands brace for enemy fire." Announced the Commander over a ship wide announcement with a voice that quite concealed their very real risk of failure and death.

At that moment an X wing, damaged by turbo laser fire, span out of control and cartwheeled down toward the forward section of the Resolve, hitting the ship hard and detonating both its engine and remaining torpedoes just above the already weakened torpedo room. The explosion was near deafening for those inside. Talon found himself thrown to the ground with his ears ringing as bulkheads warped and bent above him. His vision became blurry and confused, it was as if his sight was no longer keeping up with the tuning of his head in a manner that seemed quite impossible. He was dimly aware of screams somewhere in the background as he forced himself back up onto his feet.

One of the crew men was trapped beneath a great slab of durasteel that had once been part of the ceiling, his legs crushed and pulped by the colossal weight. A sudden secondary explosion somewhere up above sent sparks flying all across the room. The criss-crossing display of light and shadow was quite elegant, in a frenzied and crackling manner. Then the emergency lighting failed and for a moment the room was thrown into darkness. That was until the oil caught fire from the sparks. Slowly at first, and then with an ever building speed, the room filled with dull flickering flames which rose all the time. Talon struggled to steady himself his head still feeling heavy and the world around him still muted and dulled. Clarity returned just in time to see one of his crew men run past him in a panic. Acting on instinct Talon snapped out an arm and caught the fellow by his sleeve.

"Stay your ground crewman! Get the emergency extinguisher from the corner and put out that fire! The same applies to all of you!" Even now with flames dancing and prancing around the highly volatile munitions stacked tall in this room Talon refused to leave or allow any of his men to do so. He would not succumb to fear, he would not succumb to circumstance. He would fire those torpedoes! The fire continued to lick higher and thick, acrid, smoke started filling the chamber. Reaching beneath him Talon pulled an emergency respirator from the base of the targeting computer and placed it over his mouth. Unfortunately as the fire spread it reached the man trapped by the debris and slowly started to engulf him. His low cries of pain from his crushed legs escalated into frantic wails of agony as he flailed desperately, trying with all his might to put out the flames. Trying, and failing. But perhaps even worse was the fact that the fire spread to the cables connecting the targeting computer to the launch mechanisms. The intense heat melted the protective covering and warped the wires. A red light lit up above the torpedo tubes indicating that they were no longer ready to fire. Talon was not about to accept this. The begging screams of his comrade seemed to fall into silence when compared with this fault which threatened to be the death of them all.

Dashing forward, dodging in-between the rising tongues of fire Talon made his way to the manual over ride system and flicked the switch. A small section of what seemed to be the outer hull peeled back revealing a small, heavily reinforced window onto space. Inlaid into the transparasteel was a set of metal cross hairs with sliding scales on the side to adjust for range and the vertical alterations in the targets course and a horizontal scale to allow for compensation for the speed of the enemy ship. Placing his hand on a wheel to his left Talon started furiously turning it to make the final alteration of the torpedo's course. With no computer to tell him Talon had to do the math himself and guess the range to the enemy vessel. He had no time to worry if his calculations were correct, or if he had accurately remembered his lessons. There was only time to act.

"Five…four…three." His eyes had narrowed now and he was deaf to the world around him, the fire, the screams, the threat of the overheating munitions. None of this existed now. All that there was, was him and the target. "Two…one…fire!" Pulling hard on a crank by his feet a single loud alarm buzz sounded in the room as all four loaded torpedoes flew from the ship in a narrow spread heading straight towards their target. His job done there was no longer any need to stay in this flaming death trap of a room.

"Evacuate the torpedo room!" He cried at the top of his voice and his crew men were all too happy to obey. All bar one instantly dashed out. The one who remained was extinguishing his trapped colleague. Jumping over Talon managed to slide the rubble off of the trapped man allowing him to be dragged to safety. Not all of him could be salvaged. The man was a mess, his legs were truly useless and bleeding heavily. Much of his body was hideously burnt, doubtless permanently disfigured and some of his clothes had begun to melt into his flesh with the heat. Even his hair had set alight and burned his scalp to a bacon like crisp. But he was alive, just. "Get this man to medical!" He barked at two of his junior crew who began to haul the injured man away. Talon however, sealed the torpedo room and then remotely opened up both the firing hatches and the loading hatches of all the torpedo tubes, opening the interior to the vacuum of space. He was hoping to suck out all of the air and thus put out the fire, time would tell if this plan worked.

Meanwhile, on the Bridge.

"Torpedoes away sir! They are on target!" Came a voice from down below in the pits. There was a little cheer from the younger crew but the older men stayed quiet. They knew victory was far from certain, they still had the fighters crawling all over them, the enemy cruiser could return fire at any moment and who knew what fate may befall those torpedoes.

"Nose down twenty degrees. Emergency speed ahead. Steer hard to port. Navigation officer, plot a course to the Chandrila system. Start hyper drive engines." Ordered the Commander, his voice devoid of the excitement which had infected the rest of the crew, they had to get out of here fast and could not wait to see if the torpedoes were successful before preparing to leave. The sudden course alteration would also make them more difficult to hit but that did not stop the enemy trying.

"Enemy broadside incoming!" Yelled another voice from down below. A hail of red laser bolts poured from the side of the enemy cruiser putting the fire power of the Resolve to shame, some were clearly going to miss but a great many seemed poised to impact along the length of the Resolve and there was nothing she could do to get out of the way. All across the ship men were bracing against walls ready for the impact, even Talon had placed himself in a door way to shelter from any falling debris. But the Commander did not flinch. He simply stayed standing by the main view windows, hands clenched firmly behind his back. The shots hit the Resolve like a hammer, the entire ship swayed under the force, her engines barely able to compensate. Throughout the vessel you could hear booming as the laser bolts punched through the weaker areas of the shields and tore into the fragile and aged craft. The Commander could see pillars of flame and leaking gas erupt along his ship. But whilst impressive to behold the Commander knew it would take something a little bigger to break this ship and vital systems were largely unaffected.

"Shields at thirty two percent!" Cried a worried voice from bellow. "Living quarters section one, twelve and sixty three are reporting hull breaches. All contact with forward storage chamber has been lost sir." There was nothing the Commander could do other than continue with the plan and so he remained silent.

Instead the man watched the torpedoes tear towards the enemy cruiser, moving closer and closer until.

"Torpedo one impact!" Cried a jubilant gunnery officer from bellow. "Torpedo two impact!...Torpedo three impact!….Torpedo four impact!" Whilst this was good news the Commander noted that his crew's mood seemed to swing far too readily with the tide of battle, he would have to impress on them the importance of keeping a level head and not allowing the fortune of the fray to affect you. Looking out at the New Republic vessel the Commander inspected the damage. It was exactly as he had planned. The lines between the engines and the exhaust ports had been ruptured in numerous places. Cutting power to all but the weakest of manoeuvring thrusters. More over a combination of fuel, weapon plasma and other highly volatile substances was pouring from the enemy ship. No one in their right mind would dare fire through that. If they did it would ignite and the explosion would spread back to the New Republic ship, tearing it apart from the inside. However, the Resolve was also very close to the gas cloud and would also be caught in the explosion. They were using the gas as a shield, praying the cruiser was not stupid enough to fire on them.

But things did not go according to plan, the cruiser may have ceased fire but the X wings carried on, either unaware of the gas cloud or unaware of the consequences of igniting it. A stray laser bolt passed gently into the mist and the world seemed to stop for a moment. What followed was a brilliant white explosion, made all the more eerie and powerful due to its silence in the empty void of space. Looking directly into the heart of it would cause a man to go blind and even the stubborn Commander was forced to shield his eyes. The explosion rippled up into the enemy cruiser. Igniting the fuel reserves and detonating the engine in a display that seemed brighter than a sun and more vibrant than the most exotic of fireworks. This caused a chain reaction of explosions through the inside of the ship. Great pillars of fire erupted along its huge length, spitting venomously into the void, and vast sections of the hull snapped off and began to drift slowly apart. Until one huge secondary explosion propelled the vast chunks of what remained of the ship away from one another at colossal speed. The explosion itself hit the Resolve as well. For a moment the view ports were bathed in white fire. The world around them seemed as though it were about to end.

"Shields have failed!" Came a cry from down below. The fire poured in from the hull breaches along the Resolve but were thankfully prevented from spreading due to the fact the rooms were already sealed. But the raw heat of the blast started to fry some of the electronic systems in the Resolve, one or two small munitions dumps even exploded, cooked by an unbearable temperature that was felt through meters of durasteel. Thankfully the main armoury remained intact. The Resolve was truly mangled but it was still flying. That was until a huge cartwheeling section of the MC80 cruiser collided with monumental force into the back of the Resolve. In an instant half of her engine ports were ripped away and the others lost power whilst her own fuel began pouring into space. "We have lost all engine power!" Came that same voice from bellow. "We can no longer resist the gravitational pull of the planet!" His voice now seized with panic.

The world out of the view ports started to slide sideways alarmingly and the entire ship was rattling and rumbling, in grave danger of shaking itself apart.

"Sir!" Came a cry from the Lieutenant Commander. "Were going down!"


	3. A Difficult Landing

"Fire forward lower thrusters and aft upper thrusters. Try and bring our nose up!" Ordered Commander Aeron, still a model of calm whilst doom in the form of a planet hurtled towards him. By now the Resolve was tearing nose first towards the world of Melvor. She had yet to hit the planet's atmosphere but the speed of her descent combined with the damage caused by the colossal explosion mere moments ago meant the ship was already starting to lose structural integrity. Every now and again a sheet of metal would peel away from the hull of the vessel and cartwheel away into space, occasionally bouncing along the surface of the Resolve as it did so. For now the majority of the ship's bulkheads were holding, as were the various pillars and beams which formed the skeleton of the vessel. But this might not last for long.

"Five minutes until we enter the planet's atmosphere!" Cried a worried voice from bellow, over the rumble of a failing ship and the wail of stressed metal. "Ordering crew to life pods."

"Cancel that order!" Stated the Commander, worry still not present in his voice. Though a keen observer might notice his hands were now much more tightly clenched behind his back.

"But sir…." Replied the voice of the same young man, in a disbelieving tone.

"Carry out my orders. Time is of the essence." Until now the Commander had been staring out into space, but confronted with this potential insubordination he had been forced to turn around and directly address the wavering crewman in stern and authoritative tones.

He did not blame the lad for his nerves or the desire to get off this wreck. Abandoning ship seemed like a sensible choice but several life pods would have been knocked out in the battle and even more lost in the explosion along with great chunks of the ship. Add to this the fact that no Imperial vessel would come to pick them up for quite some time, whilst the first of the smaller Republic vessels would be on the scene in a matter of hours, and evacuation was not the best option. Their best chance was to try and land this thing. But the Commander did not have time to explain all of this and had to rely on the unquestioning obedience of his men.

Aeron looked at the wavering young lad, staring him down but not in a way that was supposed to intimidate the boy into obedience but rather with eyes that asked his crewman to trust him. A moment of silence hung in the air before the crewman replied.

"Yes sir, cancelling the order." The Commander gave a little nod of approval at this before resuming his previous position, staring out of the window at the planet speeding towards them.

The firing of what manoeuvring thrusters they still had did little to help the situation. The nose came up but only by a small margin and nowhere near enough. If they hit the ground nose first the ship would crumple like a concertina, ridged metal folding like paper. This situation called for a little bit of creative thinking. After a few moments of silent thought the Commander hit upon a daring plan, it probably would not work and they only had one shot but it was all that came to mind.

"Reassign all available crew to repairing shield systems aside from those already working on the engines or in medical. I want to be able to precisely control shield strength across the ship." The crew men in the pit bellow him started carrying out the order, muttering through various internal communicators to the relevant crew. One such message was received by Talon, still bracing himself from the explosion in the corridor by the torpedo room.

"Lieutenant Rake and all crew under your command. You are to repair shield control systems in the forward most sections of the ship."

"Message received and understood." Came his reply. It was at this moment that the repair crew, sent to fix the torpedo loading mechanisms whilst the battle was still raging, thundered down the corridor. Talon could not help but crack a smile at their convenient timing even if they were all plunging towards their deaths. "Excellent timing men, we have to repair their shield systems in this area. The hub is in the ceiling of the torpedo room. Wait one moment." Turning to a small control panel next to the door he resealed the torpedo hatches and pumped oxygen back into the chamber. The whole process took about twenty vital and agonisingly long seconds. When he at last unsealed the door and flung it open, allowing the repair crew to rush in, barging their way through the narrow door and dashing to the relevant systems.

Instantly the men set about their work, tearing away access panels to reveal reams of burnt out cabling and fried junction boxes. Some of the cable was salvageable and most of the core components were still intact. The shield systems themselves had not been greatly damaged by the fight and the shield generator was still in one piece, though without power. It was just that the amount of fire they had sustained had outstripped their shields capacity to keep up. The explosion however, or rather the ensuing heat, had caused severe damage to vulnerable cables and improperly insulated systems. These would have to be replaced or bypassed to restore any kind of functionality.

The efforts of the repair crew were being hindered by the debris lying around. The room had been damaged badly enough in the fight and the depressurising of the chamber had thrown around any objects that were not properly secured. Waving what was still left of his torpedo room crew back into the room Talon ordered.

"Get in their chaps. Clear the room for the repair crew." Then pointing at one of his men, a particularly spindly chap who seemed to be all skin and bones Talon added. "Yulish. Strip the cables from the normal lighting system and give it to the repair men. I don't think they have enough to replace all the burnt out wires."

"Yes sir!" Came the man's reply. He set about plucking cables away like someone playing the violin pizzicato. Yulish moved strangely and Talon could have sworn the lad had some Kaminoan blood in him, or Talon would have done had he thought it possible that humans and Kaminoans could breed.

But enough of this idle conjecture, Talon had a ship to save. Darting over to the torpedo loading tubes he started to tear away more access panels and began gutting them carelessly for useful wires. It looked like they would be okay, there was just enough cable to do the job. The question was could the repair crew replace the damaged wires fast enough. They certainly seemed to be doing their best. Their limbs almost seemed a blur as they frantically connected the wires and re-forged vital joints and connections. Sparks from welding torches danced around and lit up the room creating ominous flickering shadows on the scorched walls. Putting some men here in mind of the sparks that had set the room alight mere minutes ago.

"How long do you think it will take boys?" Inquired Talon, shouting over the noise of the work.

"Three minutes!" Came the reply. Talon gave a little nod. He had no idea if this was quickly enough. He had no notion how close they were to the atmosphere but he decided to appraise the Commander of the situation.

"Torpedo room to bridge, torpedo room to bridge. Repairs will be completed in approximately three minutes. Do you have further orders? Over."

"Positive torpedo room." Came a crackling reply over the internal communications. "Be advised all forward compartments will be sustaining severe damage. Remove all substances liable to explode. Bridge out." Talon understood his orders, the shields could not be relied upon to hold through all of re-entry and landing and if they failed this room in particular would be badly damaged, he knew what he had to do.

"All right, everybody aside from the repair crew start ferrying the torpedoes to the middle of the ship and put them in the armoury. Two men to a torpedo. Double quick!" His voice was calm, but seized with urgency, as if the rumbling and rattling of a ship collapsing around them was not enough to spur his men on to quick action.

Most of the lethal devices were still strewn around the floor, rolling about with the shakes and judders of the ship. But now, with nothing else to distract them, the crew were starting to get a grip on the things. Soon they started industriously ferrying them out and back towards the central munitions store. Talon was helping in the efforts, grasping one of the torpedoes by the rear whilst Yulish took the other end. Every time they passed any crew men who looked as though they were not doing anything useful Talon would order them back to the torpedo room to help in hurrying out the weapons.

But even running and with the fear of death to spur them on it was still a long way to the munitions room and running torpedoes down narrow corridors was difficult. The fact that the floor kept moving beneath them made it almost impossible. There was certainly no time to make a second trip and it was doubtful that they would even get all of the first shipment to the armoury in time. Talon was relying on the efforts of the various men he had order back to the torpedo room as he passed them by. If they failed him, well it scarcely bared thinking about.

Back on the bridge time was growing painfully short.

"Thirty seconds until we enter the atmosphere!" Cried one crewman.

"All hands brace for impact!" Announced Aeron as he turned and calmly made his way to the back of the bridge. He had hoped for the shields to be online by now, they were to be their saving grace but alas…..

"Shield systems online!" Cried another voice from the pit. Not wasting time giving orders the Commander departed from his normal habit of calmly walking, hands behind back, and instead sprinted hell for leather towards one of the pits where the shield control systems were. Diving bodily into it he knocked a crewman aside and tore power from all systems other than the engines, life support and artificial gravity and poured it into the shield grid. There was no way the grid could cope with that kind of power for long but it did not have to. Perhaps even more confusingly he put almost all of that power to the forward shields and left the rear shields at twenty percent, barely enough to stop the vessel from catching fire as she tore through the sky.

"Fire manoeuvring thrusters again!" He bellowed across the bridge. "Make ready to…" It was at this moment that the ship hit the atmosphere. It was as if the vessel had been struck by some form of colossal hammer. The effect was made worse by what the Commander had done. By radically altering the proportional strengths of the shields he made the nose far more resistant than the rear. This meant that the nose wanted to fall more slowly and as a result of this the prow of the craft shot up and the Resolve was now plummeting down at a far less lethal angle. However, the dramatic forces acting on the ship tossed almost everyone inside around like rag dolls. The Commander was sent sprawling to the floor and back in the bowls of the ship Yulish fell over backwards, the heavy torpedo falling down after him and smashing into his spider like legs. The man gave a yell that was more akin to a wailing dog than anything human. There was no way his legs were going to survive that, Talon even heard them snap as the Torpedo crashed down. Talon fell as well but he had the good fortune to fall forwards and sprawl on top of the torpedo, only adding to the weight on poor Yulish.

Above them a pipe ruptured and steam drenched the corridor, the lights smashed and all was chaos for a few dreadful moments. Even the metal around them screamed and wailed, louder now than ever as the tremendous forces acting on the ship threatened to tear her in half. In the shadows Talon could just about make out one of the bulkheads starting to warp and twist above him. Staggering to his feet he cried.

"Out, out! Everyone get aft!" The men around him were only too happy to obey, scrambling up and running away as the emergency red lights flicked on. Only Yulish was unable to make good his escape. Talon had begun to leave as well when he seemed to hesitate and look towards the safety of the door and then back at his crewman. The young officer suffered a moments anguish and indecision, there could only be mere seconds of integrity left in this corridor but he could not just leave one of his men behind. So with an angry sigh and a muttered curse word he dashed back to his trapped colleague and rolled the torpedo off of him, causing the injured man to give another sharp cry of pain. The lad was losing blood rapidly now that the pressure on the wound was gone and Talon had to get the boy to medical quickly. Heaving the light and spindly man up onto his shoulders Talon started running as best he could through the collapsing corridor as bolts pinged from their holes and metal screamed as if in agony. Talon escaped only in the nick of time as an arch way behind him gave way and the corridor collapsed in on itself.

Back on the bridge Aeron clambered out of the pit and back onto the officer’s walkway, seeing to his uniform as he did so and smartening up. Resuming his usual posture, hands behind his back he ordered.

"Re distribute shields to normal proportions, keep this nose angle. Fire all remaining thrusters down. Do we have any of our main engines left?" The world outside the view ports was on fire, it was one of those rare moments where you could actually see where the shields were as the flame danced mere inches above the hull. Soon it would clear and the cold and barren world beneath them would be laid bare.

"One engine port remaining." Called a voice from bellow. "Generating twenty percent of her normal power."

"Fire it immediately." Ordered the Commander. "We need to be going forward as well as down if we want to survive." The one remaining rear engine sputtered piteously into life. Every now and again it would die away only to spark into activity again. It was a truly weak display, but it did make propel them forward somewhat. Now getting dangerously close to the ground the flame engulfing the ship died away to reveal the stark white and grey ground that was fast approaching. Calmly pacing down the officers walkway to the back of the bridge where the Lieutenant Commander was already bracing for the impact the Commander took shelter next to his second in command. "All hands brace for impact with the ground." Announced the Commander on a ship wide announcement.

Talon, who was still running towards the medical facility with Yulish on his shoulders and at a speed to rival the greatest athletes, was forced to slow and gently place the man on the ground, propped up against a wall ready for the impact. Talon lay on top of him, still trying to stem the tide of blood and now using his own body to protect Yulish from the debris that would inevitably accompany an impact with the ground. There was then an agony of waiting where nothing seemed to happen aside from the shaking of the ship all around them. It only lasted for a few seconds, but the moment lasted a life time as Talon clenched his eyes shut and thought of anything, anything other than the ground hurtling towards them.

The impact seemed to catch everyone by surprise, even the people who were ready for it. The colossal sound of the bang was the first thing anyone noticed as the rear of the ship smashed into the planet’s surface, the tattered remnants of her engine tearing away and cartwheeling into the frozen earth where it promptly exploded in a hypnotic blue cloud. Plates of metal and hull armour were tearing after it in a shower of tiny shards which may have been pretty to look at as the sun glinted off of them, but you certainly would not want to be standing there when they landed. The nose of the ship then smashed down with great force, flinging everyone and everything in the Resolve forward. Anything not nailed down flew about in a most alarming fashion, causing injury in any poor man they happened to fly into.

Up on the bridge the Lieutenant Commander's support gave way and he was sent flying across the bridge at great speeds where he smashed into the great transparasteel view ports. The force of the impact did not even cause a tiny crack in the heavily reinforced windows but the second in command, he was less fortunate. You could hear his spine snap right across the room and he gave a final low cry before sliding down on the ground and lying still. Far, far too still.

The already heavily damaged forward section of the ship, containing the torpedo room, began to break away in increasingly large chunks. Huge sections of the Resolve were being left in the massive trench the ship was digging into the surface of the planet as it tore along the ground. One such section was stripped away and flew back along the length of the Resolve, bouncing off of the main hull and ricocheting up towards the bridge. For the Commander, and all in the room, the world went into slow motion as the great hunk of metal tore towards them, but they were powerless to get out of the way. The impact seemed to happen without sound as the left half of the bridge was sheered away as the great mass of spinning passed through the bridge like a knife through butter. For those lucky enough to be on the right side, such as Commander Aeron, they had to watch huge pieces of flying secondary debris hurtle through the bridge. One of which tore straight towards the Commander, in an instant all the sound from the previous few seconds seemed to hit him in a single moment in a deafening high pitched scream before the world went black and still.


	4. A Cold Reception

It had been over an hour now since the crash and the Resolve was not in a good way. Nothing remained of her engine ports and whilst the hyperdrive and main power generators were still largely intact the feeds to the engines had been ripped open. Fuel and other dangerous substances had leaked out from this mess of oozing pipes and though the torrents had now been brought under control there was a very large and very toxic pond steaming away towards the rear of the ship.

Much of the craft’s nose had also been torn away, leaving little house sized remnants of ship scatted along the huge trench in the earth that the Resolve had created during her landing. Other holes, from the battle and the colossal explosion, pocked the upper surface of the vessel and in some cases small sections had been entirely blown away. Other portions of her had been dented and crushed and the entire vessel was covered in burn marks.

Even worse was the underside of the ship, well to describe it as having any underside was perhaps being a little generous. Almost all of her ventral armour had been stripped away and huge swathes of the Resolve's lower most deck were gone, ground away by the force of the impact and the slide across the frozen tundra that made up the majority of the planet of Melvor.

Inside the ship things were barely contained chaos. Several vital repair crew and technicians had been lost when the prow of the ship was torn away. Others had been injured by being tossed around inside the ship when they hit the surface of the planet. This meant that an understrength repair team were desperately trying to keep the ship in order. A ship which had far more faults of a far more radical nature than any repair team could ever have been expected to deal with. There was no way that this ship was ever going to be truly restored. For the moment they were just trying to stop various toxic substances leaking out or preventing the reactor from slowly overloading. Right now anyone who could walk and hold a spanner was being drafted in as emergency repair crew.

That was anyone who could walk, hold a spanner and did not have medical training. Anyone who had so much as taken the most primitive of first aid courses was currently in and around the medical wards. The wounded and dying could no longer be housed in the sick bay and were being laid out in the already cramped corridors and placed in the mess hall. The medical supplies on board were not enough to deal with injury on this scale and power had failed to a lot of medical equipment. To make matters worse the doctors had to assume they would be stuck on this wretched planet for some time and were therefore trying to ration medical supplies, expending them only when strictly necessary.

This resulted in emergency surgery being conducted without proper anaesthetic, or in many cases without anaesthetic at all, and sometimes with improper tools. People were being strapped to tables to stop their violent writhing and desperate attempts to escape the surgeon's knife. A few were lucky enough to be put under, but most just had to do with screaming.

To make matters still worse the temperature outside was approximately minus thirty degrees Celsius and the great many holes torn in the ship allowed a lot of the frozen air just to pour in. The wind would occasionally gust down the corridors of the ship, wailing like a ghost and making lose debris rattle. Scuttling down the freezing passages and stealing all warmth from any person who happened to cross their path. But at least things could not get any worse. Right?

In the medical bay proper Talon walked in. The cold was getting to him, he was shivering and breathing great clouds of steam. He felt chilled to the bone and his naval officer's uniform was not providing proper insulation. His hands were covered in grease and his face was dirty from crawling around engine maintenance shafts as he assisted with repairs. He had been summoned here by the chief medical officer, who coupled with the chief engineer was managing the disaster. Talon had no clue as to why he had been summoned, he just knew his presence was immediately required.

"Mr Rake." Came a familiar voice from somewhere in the chaos of the medical bay. "Over here young Mr Rake. By the broken droid." Following the sound of the voice Talon located his Commander. Aeron was in a bad way, a very bad way. They had managed to stop the bleeding, more or less, but Talon wished they had not, it just made his wounds all the more obvious. A piece of shrapnel had clearly hit the man in the head. He had a colossal and deep cut running diagonally across his face. The man's right eye was badly damaged, perhaps beyond repair and the lower half of his nose had ripped away, presenting an ominous and gory display. His jaw also seemed badly broken and was being held together by some form of primitive metal cage. The Commander's left shoulder had also been pulped resulting in what was left of the man's left arm hanging from him by strained sinew alone, the bone crushed beyond all use.

The Commander's voice was very weak but even now it was calm and controlled. "Mr Rake. The Lieutenant Commander is dead and soon I will be of no use. I may even join him. I am field promoting you Lieutenant Commander. Central command will have to confirm it later but we need someone to be in charge. There are older men than you here, who were next in line for promotion but this is a dire hour. We need an officer to meet it….." The Commander seemed about to expand on why he had picked Talon but a sudden wave of pain racked him causing the Commander to hiss in anguish before calming down. He seemed almost embarrassed by his discomfort, as if to show pain here somehow lessened him.

Cutting his story short he said in a muted, subdued and yet still commanding voice.

"Don't let me down Talon. Don't let the crew down." Even now the Commander’s first thought was for his ship and the men who served under him.

"I will not sir. I will carry out my newly assigned duties to the standard you and the Empire expect." Replied Talon in the formal tones he always used around superiors, his voice far stronger and somehow still less weighty than the Commander’s. The Commander however, seemed to simply smile at Talon’s words and give a little laugh, or it could have been a cough from the blood in his lungs.  
"The naval officers will follow you but you…you need. You need Jan on your side." Talon was going to ask more questions of his mentor and his commanding officer but at that moment the surgeons came.

"I am sorry sir." Said one of the surgeons in a worryingly casual and matter of fact tone. The man had performed dozens of operations in the past few hours and it would appear this had caused his bedside manner to become one of the casualties. "We must operate at once, the Commander will not be fit to receive visitors for some time." Without waiting they started to wheel the man away to who knew what fate. Talon did not care to contemplate it. The sight of the broken and incomplete bodies around did more than enough to fuel his imagination. The newly appointed Lieutenant Commander instead quickly made his way to what was left of the bridge, hoping to get a better idea of the situation as he puzzled over just what to do next and who this Jan person was.

Talon was still no closer to working out the identity of this mysterious figure when he eventually arrived on the bridge, thank the stars the turbo lifts still worked. Making his way to one of the few working computers, down in a now abandoned crew pit, he started to flick through the crew manifests, browsing by rank. It was a while until he found the name Jan and it was not where he thought it would be. Talon was expecting the man perhaps to be an engineer of sorts, or even related to a powerful or influential family in the Empire. Talon would have been more at home if the man's record presented the tell tail signs of an undercover Imperial Intelligence officer.

But no, Jan was instead a ranking officer. Equivalent to a lieutenant he would have, until recently, had technical superiority over Talon. This man was in charge of the small cadre of stormtroopers aboard this vessel. Stormtroopers were something of a mystery to Talon, he never quite connected with them. He had no idea what they did to enemy moral but they scared the life out of him. Hoping he was wrong Talon kept on searching but this Jan Frieda was the only Jan on the list, aside from a low level cook and it could not have possibly been him.

So with a sigh of resignation and mild worry Talon set about getting the ship in order. He was about to descend the turbo lifts again when something made him stop and turn around. Staring down towards the main view window he looked at the battered corpse of his predecessor, the old Lieutenant Commander. He had been a stoic man and a tad distant from the men but he had discharged his duties well. Gently pacing over to the corpse Talon rolled it on its back and reached down, his hand hesitated for a moment before he gently prized away the man's rank badge. A simple five blue rectangles and one red rectangle in a single line, Talon removed his own insignia and put this one in its place before taking the two code cylinders off of the corpse and tucking them into his breast pocket so one was at each end of the badge.

This might have seemed a little macabre, even disrespectful but in Talon's mind it was necessary. He had been taught to obey the rank, not the man. In theory every man on this ship was supposed to do the same, so he needed the rank badges to exercise his new authority and get the obedience he would doubtless require.

Now, with everything he needed, Talon made his way back to the turbo lifts and went down back into the bowls of the ship. He was prioritising the needs of the crew and the Resolve itself in his mind as he descended. Firstly, most of the engineering teams needed to keep repairing and stabilising key ship systems. Secondly they needed to procure either more suitable clothing or to plug the various holes in an area of the ship large enough to house everyone warmly, in these conditions hypothermia was a very real risk and whilst it was warmer in here than it was out there it was still far too cold for comfort or health. Thirdly, they needed more medical supplies so they could stop rationing what little they had. Fourthly they needed to prepare for an attack. It would be a while, but the New Republic would come for them. The small frigates and patrol ships would descend on this world and though they lacked the firepower to bombard the site they would have fighters to strafe them and troops to land and launch a ground assault. And of course linked to all of this was the need to get a distress signal back to the Empire and be rescued from this death trap of a world. All in all, quite the to do list.

Now back in the cramped and twisting innards of the ship Talon made his way to the nearest available, empty room. It had been an officers quarters, who knew if the officer was alive or dead? Personal possessions, family pictures and other knick knacks had been strew left and right across the place from the impact. The bed had been torn from its mounting in the wall and had smashed in to the other wall at the back of the room, creating a worrying dent. Reaching for his internal communicator Talon announced.

"The chief engineer, the chief medical officer, the chief gunnery officer, the communications officer and the commander of the storm troopers are to report immediately to officers' quarters 17 C. That is all."

It would be a few minutes until they all arrived and Talon spent the time trying to clear away some of the mess so as that they could all fit in the tiny cabin. The gunnery and communications officers were the first to arrive. Both were lieutenants and both wore the same olive grey uniform to Talon, although the communications officer had lost his hat in the commotion. Next came the chief engineer, named Horton, who had removed his tunic and hat all together, displaying a grey shirt underneath. He was covered in grime, oil and other gunk inevitable in the repair process. He even had a few cuts and scrapes, either from the landing or from injuring himself as he crawled around the jagged and broken belly of the ship. Next to arrive was the chief medic, who wore a white apron over his clothes and looked more like a butcher than a doctor. He was covered in a worrying amount of blood and other fluids and he had rolled his sleeves up to reveal equally gore soaked and also very hairy forearms.

Last to arrive was Jan, or at least Talon guessed it was Jan. The all encasing white armour made it hard to tell but why else would a storm trooper just wander in? Besides, the orange shoulder pauldron was a clue to his senior rank within the corps. Jan was a big man and his stature would have been imposing even outside the armour. He held himself in a confident manner but not with the ridged uniformity Talon displayed. Rather he stood in a more casual fashion, not a sloppy way, rather he just oozed natural confidence and control.

"Very good gentlemen." Talon began. "Now that you are all here we can begin. I will start with you." He gestured to the crimson stained medical officer, who seemed to be gently dripping a viscous, dark ichor on the floor. "So as that you can return to your urgent work." Passing the medical officer a data pad which had been lying on the ground and had previously been used as a diary by the officer who lived here Talon ordered. "Please make a note of all the medical supplies and equipment you need, in order of priority. You may then return to your work." The medical officer shot Talon an odd look, this exercise seemed pointless to the man and he might have argued but that would just have taken more time, time the man could be spending in surgery so he just set about making notes as hastily as he could.

Turning to the engineer Talon was about to press on when he was suddenly interrupted by Jan.

"Why are you giving us these orders lieutenant? The chief engineer has held his commission for longest, he has superiority." The question hung in the air like a bomb. It was rare for any Imperial officer to have to suffer such a direct challenge to his authority in public. But Jan thought he could get away with it, after all Jan had also held his rank for longer than Talon held his old one so until mere minutes ago even Jan could have ordered Talon around in a crisis.

Talon’s response was short and to the point, in what he hoped would be a decisive end to the conversation.

"I am your Lieutenant Commander. I hold superiority here…" Once again Talon seemed about to press on when Jan cut him off once more.

"Oh really? No disrespect but as I recall the Lieutenant Commander is dead." The situation was edging towards dangerous now. Some Imperial commanders would have had Jan shot for that but Talon was not that sort of a leader. Besides he was mindful of Aeron's advice to get Jan on his side. But it was proving more difficult that Talon had hoped.

Exercising restraint Talon explained

"The old Lieutenant Commander is certainly dead. I have been made up to Lieutenant Commander in order to replace him and serve the interests of the crew."

"The interests of the crew?" Jan replied, obviously both doubtful of the truth of Talon’s words and dismissive of the man himself. "The Commander is a sensible man, he would not have made up a man as inexperienced as you in this crisis. Certainly not if he was of sound mind." Jan was starting to get to Talon, you could see it in the sudden ferocious stillness of Talon's expression. Talon could not afford to lose this encounter and forsake any respect, authority or command his new rank gave him. Everyone knew promotions made by people not of sound mind were invalid, Jan's accusation was a serious one and precedent showed that people on the brink of death often acted irrationally and could not be said to be of sound mind.

Talon was forced to shift his ground, and go on the offensive

"You would think the Commander's judgement so easily clouded?" Retorted Talon, everyone on the ship respected the Commander, he was a good leader with long experience, sound judgement and remarkable resolve. Anyone who had the approval of the Commander instantly got a good deal of respect from the crew. And those who questioned him instantly lost that respect. "Very well." Continued Talon. "The chief medical officer is in a position to assess the Commander's state of mind. How was he before his surgery?" Asked Talon, posing the question to the blood soaked man beside him.

The good Doctor paused before answering, why was anybody's guess but Talon thought the man was making up his mind as to whether Talon should or should not be in charge. After all the entire issue now rested on this man's word. After some consideration the mildly irritated surgeon came out with.

"Whilst the Commander was certainly in pain he was coping with it remarkably well. Nor had we given him any drugs which would affect his ability to reason. Also his general behaviour reflected someone of sound mind. I see no reason why the promotion should be invalid on medical grounds."

Silence reigned once more but as far as Talon was concerned it was a triumphant one as he allowed his victory to settle in. Everyone else was waiting to see how Jan would react, they knew him better, they knew he was not a man you wanted as an enemy. Jan had the capacity to break a commanding officer. He would not attack them, shoot them in the back or brazenly disobey an order. Nor would he take a dislike to an officer on the grounds of personality or any other petty reason.

No he only opposed commanders who he thought would get his men needlessly killed. He would break them through disrespect. Jan commanded the absolute loyalty of the stormtroopers, scout troopers and similar personnel on board. He also commanded the respect and loyalty of most of the junior crew, people who would never interact with the most senior officers but who dealt with Jan quite often. Jan even went to great lengths to eat with the junior crew, socialise with them and work with them. He was to the lower ranks what the Commander was to the officers. So if you did not have Jan on your side it was bad news.

Keen to get away the medical officer finished writing down the list, passed it to Talon and silently left to get back to his busy work. Talon meanwhile pressed on with the business of the meeting.

"Chief engineer Horton. You, unfortunately have a lot of work to do. Once the vessel is no longer at risk of detonating, collapsing in on itself or suffering some other catastrophe you are to cannibalise parts of the ship which have fallen off or are of no use and patch as many of the holes in the hull as you can. No need to make the Resolve space worthy, just try to keep out the cold. However, I also need you to give over one or two crew men to the communications officer here." He said, gesturing at the man. "He will direct your crewmen in the creating of some form of distress beacon or better yet re-establishing full communications. Do you understand?"

He looked at both of the men, who each nodded their silent understanding. Talon then turned to the gunnery officer and continued in a matter of fact but still friendly way. "Unfortunately we can expect the New Republic forces to reach us before an Imperial rescue team. I doubt they have cruisers in the area so we will not need to worry about orbital bombardment. However, we will likely have to face attacks from star fighters and ground assaults, possibly supported by light armour. I want you to assess what guns we can bring back online and what we will need to do it." Then, passing the man the data pad Talon added. "Write down the needed materials here." Then glancing back at the communications officer and the chief engineer, Talon added. "You two gentlemen, also write down in the pad what materials you will need. Oh, and if possible try and bring the shields back online, at least partially. I know it is awful lot to ask chief engineer Horton, so put it at the bottom of the priorities I just gave you."

Finally Talon turned to Jan, momentarily unnerved by that intimidating white helmet, but he did his best not to let it show. Taking a step towards the storm trooper he gently prodded him in his chest piece and added in a slightly lower tone.

"You…..can just wait."

"Yes sir." Came Jan's reply, dripping in poorly concealed hostility and disrespect with a healthy dollop of contempt. The various other officers in the room kept on chatting for a while, passing the data pad between them and making various entries. When they were done they handed the pad back to Talon with a few nods of silent confirmation.

"Thank you very much gentlemen, you may return to your duties." With that said they all sidled out, all too eager to get away from the dangerous mix of Talon and Jan. With them gone Talon waited for a moment or two. He was considering giving the storm trooper a very serious dressing down but he could not bring himself to yell at that helmet, it was too unsettling, too intimidating. Plus he was still aware of the Commander's advice, to get this man onside.

So instead Talon took in a little sigh, tossed the data pad in the air and deftly caught it between two fingers before proffering it to Jan in one smooth movement.

"We know that this planet is not uninhabited. Supply ships come in every now and again, there may not be many settlements but there will be some. Unfortunately we are not in possession of any up to date maps. I need you and your troopers to go out there, find a settlement and get me my supplies. I know you don't have all the gear for this weather but you must do what you can. You and you teams can take any spare equipment, clothing and so on you see fit. Just get the supplies."

There was another moment of deadly silence in the air before Jan slowly reached out and took the pad with just a little more force than was necessary.

"Yes sir." Was his only reply.


	5. Supply And Demand

Cold, so cold, so very cold. This was the single, penetrating thought going through most of the storm trooper's heads. There was no appropriate snow trooper gear in the wrecked remains of the Resolve. As a result, the men were freezing to the bone. Their normal suits could do something but only so much, so in order to try and compensate the troopers had improvised as best they could. Sheet after sheet of grey, standard issue, Imperial bedding had been ripped away by the storm troopers and wrapped around them like a child's blanket. They had even wrapped it around their heads like a Tusken Raider may in the desert. Several troopers had even taken jackets and trousers from dead crewmen and tried to wear it over their armour, with limited success. The armour, of course, made them much more bulky and so the clothes were too small or even ripping in some places. But every layer was a precious one. They presented a ramshackle, even humorous, sight. But anyone exposed to the icy embrace of this world would not laugh.

They may have looked a shambles but you could still tell they were storm troopers, some of the Empires finest and accompanying them were a small number of scout troopers, devoid of speeder bikes, who were similarly wrapped up against the cold. It had been a while since the briefing with Talon and the now half frozen Jan had taken an even greater dislike to his new Lieutenant Commander. Talon had been in charge less than a day and already he was sending people to their almost certain deaths, or so Jan thought.

Jan would survive of course, he always did. You did not get to live this long in the stormtroopers without being as hard as nails and having the luck of the devil. Jan doubted Talon could last a day as a trooper, and scoffed at the thought. His anger at his new commanding officer helped to keep him warm. But the majority of Jan's mind was taken up with concern for his men. As tough as they were, he doubted that they could hold up in these conditions for long and they had already been out here for far longer than was sensible. Jan was thoroughly impressed with his scout troopers, often derided as wannabe troopers, they had been out here for even longer, had moved faster and lain eyes on a small town, to which the group was now heading in force.

"How much further is it Lani?" Asked Jan to the scout trooper next to him. Lani was a short soldier, though not comically so, and walked with an almost cat like softness. The trooper looked as though they should have been stalking animals in a wood rather than trudging through frozen tundra with high wind chill.

"Not far sir, just over this hill sir." Replied the young soldier in chipper tones, seemingly unaffected by the cold or possibly even enlivened by it. Some people were strange like that.

"Good." Replied Jan, in gruff and grumbling voice that was less than enthusiastic. He was still bitter about the mission. But more pressingly he was concerned about the town. This was Rebellion territory, Jan refused to lend the New Republic any credibility by calling it anything other than the Rebellion, how welcoming would the locals be? Worse still would they be capable of defending themselves? If so, he and his men would be crossing a wide expanse of open ground against what might be a prepared position. This was of course, not good.

When they eventually reached the top of the next, shallow hill Jan raised a hand to stop his men whilst he took a long look at the town. He was trying to take it all in when another scout trooper popped up from the frozen earth less than ten meters away. The man had been lying in a little dip in the ground and had spread his sheets over him to conceal his body. This combined with the small amount of snow which had settled on him and general dirt and grit from rolling around on the tundra had made him look like a part of the earth.

Jan was almost surprised at this, but he had seen scout troopers hide before, they were damn good at it, the sneaky devils. This second scout walked up and gave a little nod to Lani before addressing Jan directly, mustering a quivering salute as he did so.

"Sir I….." The scout gave a little stutter and shiver, he had been laying in these deathly temperatures for quite some time and he felt like an ice cube, he was likely going to need medical attention. But, regaining his composure he continued. "I have been watching the town and they do not seem aware of our presence. News of the crash will have spread, but no one will be expecting survivors. They seem to have no form of meaningful defence."

Jan nodded and patted the scout on the arm saying reassuringly.

"Fall in." Before turning to Lani and adding. "Civilian target. Unprepared. Unaware. Armed men likely restricted to law enforcement and game hunters. They should offer no resistance. Still….there may be radical Rebel zealots present. Lani, take you scouts and move across the field to screen our advance. Stop just short of the town. My troopers and I will follow and take control of the town itself." You could tell from the certainty in his orders and manner that he had done this before.

Lani nodded and began waving the troops forward, spread wide across the field and moving cautiously, checking for traps as they went. The town itself was very small, but its design hid its nature. It seemed to be made primarily of isolated, extremely low buildings but this was not surprising. To aid insulation settlements in these conditions were constructed almost wholly underground. All they could see of the town was the topmost stories of the buildings. Even these were partially covered by a small sprinkling of snow and were painted a dull grey, blending in with the equally dull and featureless surroundings almost perfectly.

Jan sat down on the cold hard ground and watched, trying to ignore the gently creeping loss of sensation spreading out from his buttocks after they hit the ice and grit. Lani was taking plenty of time to go forward but things like this could not be rushed. Jan's men were also taking the opportunity to rest, sitting down and curling into balls, knees tucked up against their chest, in an attempt to keep warm. Several were rocking back and forth whilst one or two were jumping up and down on the spot or preforming jumping jacks. Anything to fight off the biting cold which felt as though it were crystallising their skin.

Eventually a hand signal from Lani prompted Jan to spring up and say.

"All right boys. Up. Up! Get across that field, move quickly and do not bunch up! Move!" The stormtroopers entered a flurry of well-practiced activity, moving across the open expanse just like they moved across the training ground. With some men stopping and giving cover whilst other troopers advanced beyond them and then repeating the process over and over again. Eventually they passed Lani and the scouts and got to one of the building entrances. As you would expect the door was thoroughly sealed but that was little obstacle to stormtroopers.

Without so much as an order one of the men moved forward, placed a charge on the door and retreated a safe distance. There was a pause for a few loaded moments before the small blast blew the door clean off its bolts and sent it hurtling inside. Following it came the troopers, only a few at first with their blasters set to kill just in case. This was all done smoothly and swiftly, a well-oiled machine at work. They found themselves advancing down a narrow flight of stairs, descending into the planet. At the bottom of these steps was a single man behind a desk who suddenly panicked and reached under the table.

Assuming he was going for a gun the lead storm trooper ran, hell for leather, towards the man. Wanting to avoid the noise of gun shots, this threat was going to be dealt with hand to hand. The trooper got there just as the man began to straighten up. Not waiting to see what was clutched in the guard’s palm the trooper threw a punch across the desk which connected with his opponent’s jaw, staggering the foe. Still the trooper attacked, grabbing his dazed opponent's head, and slamming it down into the desk before yanking the head back up again and punching him between the eyes three times. Again, this was done smoothly, and without hesitation, suggesting that not only had the trooper been taught to act like this but that he had done it several times before. Jan's men were experienced at it was starting to show.

The man went limp and fell back with a gentle groan. The man was not dead but had lost consciousness. His nose was crushed and broken, oozing blood, and judging by the little trail of red coming from his mouth he had lost a tooth as well, perhaps even suffered from a broken jaw. But hey, it could have been a lot worse for the man. Especially since it was now clear that he had not been going for a gun, but rather a short-range communicator, doubtless trying to alert the rest of the town.

A few other troopers went by, securing the next junction, before Jan walked up calmly, holding his E 11 blaster casually at his side.

"Bind his wrists and bring him with us, we may need him." Ordered Jan before he walked on, his tone devoid of all sympathy for the prisoner, clearly concerned only with the business of the day. It was quickly becoming apparent that the various buildings here were linked primarily via underground tunnels and the few buildings up top were the entrances and emergency exits to and from this tunnel system. The troopers spent some time blindly wandering the corridors with no opposition but they also achieved nothing. What Jan needed was a map, thankfully after some time running aimlessly around, they found a map painted onto the wall with a helpful key and a convenient "you are here" arrow to boot. It was a like a map you would find in a shopping mega complex, but it would do.

Looking over it for a few moments Jan jabbed his finger against the wall declaring.

"Here. Medical. Trooper, lead the way." He gestured at a nearby faceless soldier. Carrying out his orders the trooper started jogging down the corridor with the rest close behind. The stormtroopers were not interested in holding this town, only getting their supplies and so they did not bother with the myriad of doors they passed on the way, which presumably led to private dwelling houses.

When the group eventually reached the small hospital in this back-water settlement they passed through the main doors with no opposition. The team burst violently into a pleasant reception area which had been tastefully decorated with flowers, soothing pictures and calming, mellow lighting. A pair of women, doubtless receptionists, were behind the front desk and were understandably alarmed at the stormtroopers tearing in. One just started screaming and screaming and screaming. The other, with a little more spunk to her, reached for the nearest heavy thing she could find, a potted plant, and hurled it over arm at a stormtrooper.

The pot smashed against the troopers head with a satisfying crack, but a mere potted plant was not going to do much against a plastoid composite helmet. Many men, even some imperial stormtroopers, would have shot the woman for that but these troopers stayed calm.

"Get on the ground!" Order Jan loudly, bellowing with a combination of rage and authority, but neither of the women obeyed. One just kept screaming whilst the other was running to another nearby heavy object. "Get on the ground!" He demanded again but still he was ignored. The room was crawling with men by now, weapons raised and ready to fire. Jan gestured at the fiercer willed woman prompting a storm trooper to holster his weapon and calmly advance on her as she threw another projectile, this time a small chair, which thankfully missed the man.

The trooper got to the woman and delivered a single strong punch to her head, sending the receptionist sprawling onto the ground where upon the trooper instantly knelt on her back and stated to restrain her. The other woman was still screaming prompting Jan to say in a tired but also annoyed tone of voice.

"Someone please shut the woman up!" Another unsettlingly anonymous trooper happily obliged and walked up to the shrieking receptionist before smacking the butt of his blaster rifle straight into her forehead with great force, knocking the woman out cold and making her fall like a rag doll, bouncing off of the desk as she collapsed. "Thank you!" Was Jan's only reply, a hint of frustrated relief in his tone.

They were about to press deeper into the tiny hospital when a man ran around the corner holding a first aid kit, clearly having thought that the screaming indicated some form of accident. But upon seeing the troopers a worried look set upon his face and this latest arrival instantly turned around and ran back in the direction he had come from.

"Catch him!" Order Jan and a pair of troopers gave chase.

The man was tearing deeper into the tiny hospital when he eventually arrived at a desk, leaning over it he opened a draw, drew out a blaster and turned to fire on the troopers. Unfortunately for him his targets were faster on the trigger and proceeded to put three blaster bolts into him, throwing his body back across the desk where it then lay. Unfortunately, it was now impossible for anyone in this tiny hospital to not know that they were under some form of attack.

"Round up and restrain everyone in the hospital!" Cried Jan. "Bring them here and seal the door! We can expect to be besieged by the local militia soon!" Corralling these new hostages took some time, several of them were hiding, one or two fools even tried to put up a fight but eventually they were all gathered in the reception area and on their knees. Some of them started to beg, others whimper, most waited for what seemed inevitable in dignified silence. Jan however, did not start gunning these men and women down. Instead he holstered his weapon and stood in front of the row of prisoners calmly saying. "Which of you is the chief medic?" Silence reigned, no one willing to speak up. "Who is the chief medic?" He asked again, in more urgent tones, slightly edged with threat.

After yet more silence one man eventually said.

"You killed him." His voice was filled with hate and loathing, it was more of an accusation than a factual statement. Judging by his clothing he was clearly a medical man himself.

"Ohh you make a very poor liar." Replied Jan with a smug tone, dripping in quiet menace. He turned and advanced on the medic, looming over him like a grim spectre of the inevitable. "That man was far too young. You though, you look about the right age. And you are very keen to protect these people, you are the chief?"

"He was old enough to have a family." Replied the man with righteous venom in his voice, but also avoiding the issue.

"He was old enough to have a gun!" Came Jan's snappy and somewhat angry reply. "I do not have to justify the actions of my troopers. You just have to do what I say!"

"No." Stated the doctor in a very calm but very definite voice.

This answer was surprising to Jan, not that it stopped him for long.

"No?" Questioned Jan. "You little…" Reaching for the Doctor Jan pulled him up by his arms, crumpling up his sleeves as he did so and revealing a little tattoo. This caused Jan to give a little snort and toss the man back on the ground with just a bit more force than was necessary. The tattoo was a little series of numbers, an imperial prisoner code. This man was an ex-convict and more to the point, the last number in that code showed he was a rebel or at least a rebel sympathiser. Jan had not been anticipating a welcoming population but for the lead doctor to be a rebel, that threw a spanner in the works.

The veteran trooper had to take a moment or two to think of a solution, during which time the doctor piped up with.

"Why can't you accept that you are beaten? You’re…." The doctor was clearly about to press on when Jan delivered a sharp boot to his face, sending the doctor sprawling to the floor with a ringing in his ears.

"We are not beaten!” Declared Jan, almost bellowing the words. “Worlds may have been lost, casualties may have been sustained and our original leaders may have been killed. But the Empire is greater than any of that. We may have retreated but soon we shall reclaim the galaxy. A galaxy which is only safe, prosperous and peaceful under Imperial rule. Whilst self-important, self-entitled parasites such as you jealously and greedily tear at all which is great!" Jan's words had a sense of hate to them that was palpable and though it was impossible to see under that helmet it sounded like he was frothing under there.

"You…" Again the doctor was going to make a point and again he received a boot to the face.

"Shut up! You will get me the medical supplies on this list. You can do it faster than my men, but do not think you are in-expendable, we could do it ourselves eventually. My men will check the supplies as you deliver them. For everything which has been tampered with and for every minute you take over fifteen I start taking bits off of these people. Your bleeding rebel heart cannot withstand that." Handing the list over Jan also gestured for the doctor to be cut loose so he could get on with his work.

The man just stood up with hate in his eyes.

"You bastard!" The doctor spat. "You utter…" But Jan cut him off.

"Get to work traitor! You three troopers, escort him." Jan watched the man being ushered off with a bitter sneer beneath his helmet, a slight rumble of disgust and hatred seeping out from beath the plastoid. Jan was not a man devoid of mercy or common human decency. He took no pleasure in threatening the lives of hostages, but he needed results quickly. Plus, it seemed that this settlement was sympathetic to those that had torn down the Empire and in Jan's mind such people needed to be punished. As for actual Rebels, well. He would gladly put them all up against the wall. An execution was a kindness compared to what they deserved.

Moving behind the reception desk Jan flicked on a holographic communicator. It took some fiddling with the controls and the pre-sets but eventually he managed to contact someone else in the settlement. The flickering blue hologram of a man looked stunned to be confronted with a stormtrooper and started shouting something at people who lay out of view. Jan however, wanted this man's undivided attention.

When Jan spoke, he spoke in a way which may have seemed respectful but which was so heavy with implied violence that the man on the other end of the screen could not help but fall into attentive silence.

"Sir. I do not know who I am contacting but I have a message for you. I am a ranking imperial officer and I have prisoners. I will forward you a list of materials I require. Contact who you need to in the settlement, get the supplies loaded onto a shuttle craft with a crew ready to fly it. This must be done within fifteen minutes. Prepare to receive data." Jan fiddled with a copy of the list for a moment, editing out the medical supplies before transmitting the list to this hapless civilian. The man looked beyond confused for a while, unsure what to do in this situation but Jan did not give the man the opportunity to ask questions. "Message ends." He said, cutting the transmission off but keeping the device on so he could be contacted if the town wanted to negotiate.

Gesturing at one of his men Jan ordered.

"You, patch us into their security network. I want to see what they are doing. I would not be surprised if the dogs tried to arrange some sort of trap for us." But as things turned out, he had no need to worry. Some minutes later the communications flickered into life and a new man presented himself over the holographic communicator. By way of introduction, he said.

"Imperial troops. This is Gregor Falltam. I represent this small community. Please, do not harm the medical staff and patients. We need them for this town to survive. We will do the best we can to get your supplies. If the Empire is coming back to this part of space, we don't want trouble."

Jan could not tell by the man's voice if this man was bluffing or laying a trap, he was however, genuinely scared and concerned. So be it, if fear got Jan what he needed then fear is what he would use. He would rather they acted out of duty to the Empire and respect for the troopers, but terror did for now. Pacing over to the communicator Jan stated in a voice which was declaring a matter of fact rather than laying out a negotiating position.

"I regret to inform you one of your own is already dead. He attempted to kill some of my men. We have several other prisoners some of which we will release on receiving the goods, some after they are inspected and the rest when we are aboard a shuttle loaded with the supplies which we are sure is fit to fly. We also need a reliable pilot to fly this vessel. Do you understand these conditions?" There was a brief pause before an uncertain voice replied.

"Yes we….we understand. Just don't hurt any more of them."

"Good." Said Jan, unceremoniously flicking off the communicator.

Turning to a nearby trooper he ordered.

"Signal Lani and the others, tell them to enter the settlement and oversee the assembly of the rest of our supplies." Directions that were swiftly executed. Now there was not much more to do aside from wait. So that is exactly what he did, wait, standing over the hostages like a promise of doom.

After some fifteen minutes the communications flickered back into life and the town leader presented himself again. Walking over to the holographic projector Jan stood in front of it and simply said.

"Yes?" Demanding an answer by his question.

"We have the supplies you asked for. We have assembled them in the shuttle bay ready for you. Your scout troopers have been watching over us most thoroughly. There is no way we could have tampered with the goods." The man sounded even more frightened than ever, possibly because there were now loyal imperial troops with blasters standing around him. Jan had taken a disliking to this spineless man, but the advantage of a spineless man was that he did what he was told.

For now, Jan needed to keep up his intimidating pressure on this little weasel of a creature.

"I will decide whether the goods are of sufficient standard. You will withdraw any armed personnel you may have between here and the shuttle bay. We are on our way." Flicking off the communicator Jan started barking at the hostages. "Up! Up you dogs. You two, carry your unconscious friends." Jan pointed at two randomly selected members of the group who then silently picked up the still unconscious guard and the limp form of the formerly shrieking woman.

More or less at this moment the doctor also re-emerged with a trolley loaded full of supplies, flanked by three troopers.

"Fall in with the others!" Ordered Jan before turning to one of his men and saying. "Get the door open." Low and behold a few moments later and the door slid noiselessly back. Not only that, but there was no opposition on the other side. Temporary barricades had been put up and other pieces of haphazard cover had been made from storage crates, household furniture and other bits and bobs, but the men manning the barricade were long gone. It seemed that the town was cooperating, but the troopers were unwilling to trust these people just yet.

The group advanced along the blank, tight corridors in a cautious fashion. Their guns raised ready to fire, permanently checking all about them with alert glances. The tension in the place was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Eventually though the team did make it to the hanger. There the rest of the supplies had been neatly stacked next to a large transport shuttle. Lani and the scout troopers were also standing around as well as the town leader himself and a small team of people who had clearly been finding and preparing the supplies.

True to his word Jan turned to his troopers and ordered.

"Cut a third of them loose." And promptly the order was obeyed. Desperate hostages, now freed, ran over towards their friends, a combination of fear and relief overwhelming them. But things were not over. Waving a few troopers forward his men started to inspect the boxes of supplies, making sure things had not been tampered with and were of an acceptable standard. Walking up to Lani, Jan asked in hushed tones. "Have you had an opportunity to look over the ship?"

"Yes sir." Was Lani's smart reply.

"Good, is it of a proper standard and do you suspect any foul play?"

"No sir, everything seems to be fine. Even the pilot seems square, if a little nervous."  
Jan gave an approving little grunt and a gentle nod of his head before. They might just all get out of this one alive.

Turning now and sauntering up to the town leader Jan declared.

"You seem to be keeping your end of the bargain, have no fear I shall keep mine." Jan gave a little chuckle and patted the cowering leader on the shoulder with such force it made the little man's knees bend. "We are not monsters. We just know what needs to be done for the good of the galaxy. I hope you will remember this." The stick had worked thus far, now he needed to use just a little bit of carrot.

At more or less this juncture several troopers, who had been inspecting the supplies, gave thumbs up signals to show all was in order. When the final sign of approval came in Jan turned behind him and further ordered.

"Cut the next third loose!" Then turning to the town leader, he gave a small laugh that was both reassuring and mocking. "See, you are doing well. No need to be so scared. However, I will have to ask you and all your friends to leave. Don't worry, I will not fly away with the hostages." The ever shrinking man nodded hesitantly but said in stuttering tones.

"Yes, yes, all right. We will leave. Just please….." But Jan cut him off.

"I know, I know. I would do the Empire no favours by damaging her reputation and breaking my word and I am sworn to act in the Empire's best interests. Your men are safe. Now off with you." He gave the man a gentle little shove away. The poor devil was scared enough and the fear of losing men was more than adequate to get him to comply. There was no need to terrify him anymore, even if Jan disliked him, it may sow the seeds of hate in his heart.

As ordered the civilians filled out, leaving only the troopers and the final batch of hostages behind. The troopers began to ferry the supplies on to the ship whilst Jan looked on. The doctor was still being held as a prisoner and Jan wanted to kill that man. He wanted to kill that man so desperately it hurt. He had been a rebel, or so Jan believed, and all rebels deserved to die in his mind. But Jan had given his word, his word as a soldier and an officer. He was torn between his desire for justice and retribution and his honour as a soldier. He was still thinking all of this over when Lani gracefully slid up behind him and said.

"Umm sir…we are ready to go sir." As if trying to gently wake a man from a daydream.

Jan gave a little shake of his head to jolt him out of his ever-darkening thoughts and return his concentration before saying.

"Good, good. Get the last of the men in the ship. I will join you shortly." Lani nodded and gave a sharp click of the heels before dashing off to the shuttle. Jan meanwhile saw to rest of the hostages and gathered them a safe distance away from the craft. When he eventually got to the doctor Jan drew his E-11 and placed it against the man's head. "As for you, you low down piece of filth." There was a long paused before Jan drove his blaster harder against the man's skull. "You will survive today. Just so the world can know that we have honour. Whilst you worthless Rebels have only greed and envy."

He drew his weapon away but gave the doctor a sharp kick in the kidney for good measure before stalking off to the shuttle and clambering in. Inside it was packed, there was barely enough room for the supplies and men and almost no one was properly seated. Jan watched the doctor, with narrowed eyes underneath his helmet as the loading ramp closed. A few moments latter there was a sudden jolt as the engines fired and the ship blasted into the sky, ready to deliver the lifesaving supplies to the needy Resolve.  



	6. Preparing For The Worst

The situation was improving, the first good news Talon had received all day. Every leak and potential overload in what remained of the Resolve had been safely capped or shut down. Other areas of the ship had been sealed off from the cold, giving the crew somewhere to shelter in the lethal temperatures. They had even managed to restore some semblance of interstellar communication. The men were still working on improving the set up, and the Resolve was incapable of receiving messages, but she was able to broadcast a repeating and automated SOS signal back to Imperial space. Now they just had to hope someone was listening. Other, non medical, crewmen were working on preparing the Resolve for a fight. It was only a matter of time until the New Republic found them here, for all Talon knew they could have found him already and were preparing for an assault right now. Work was being undertaken to get the less damaged turbo lasers back online and restore some semblance of shielding. Not only that but the stormtroopers were busy preparing firing positions in and around various pieces of the hull which lay open and made for obvious entry points for any New Republic ground troops.

Talon hoped no one would find them here. They barely had any kind of power or heat signature, a casual sensor sweep would not detect them. Hopefully the New Republic ships would assume they had escaped after destroying their cruiser. But all it would take would be one thorough enemy captain, one survivor to tell his story, one ship to detect the encoded distress signal and that would be that. Talon, who was currently standing in the corridor outside the make shift office where he had given Jan and the others their orders, looked about him. After a moment or two he started to notice little things here and there. There was a charge to the air beyond the simple sharp of the cold, the crew almost buzzed with an anxious energy, the men about him sounded subtly different and the hairs on the backs of his hands were starting to stand up. He had felt this way before the attack, it was the sensation the Commander had taught him to watch out for. Talon had never been a man to believe in the accuracy of gut instinct, but he was starting to come round to the idea. They were going to be attacked, and soon.

Striding back into the make shift meeting room he walked over to the internal communicator. The system had been repaired well enough to allow anyone in any of the ships remaining vital areas to communicate with anyone in that room. As such there was now a junior crewman in there permanently, passing messages from one section of the ship to another. Walking over to the man Talon ordered, half lost in thought.

"Signal the chief medical officer to start setting aside supplies, equipment and tables for emergency battlefield treatment. Then send messages for Jan and the chief engineer to come here for a meeting….. Immediately."

The crewman set about his appointed task whilst Talon just stood there, brow furrowed in thought. He was not sure how long it took for Jan and his chief engineer to arrive, he was losing track of time as he speculated and planned, but the two arrived almost simultaneously. Turning to face the duo, with both hands behind his back in seeming imitation of the old Commander, Talon said welcomingly.

"Ah. Hello again gentlemen. As you are both aware we have been preparing for an attack. I have reason to believe that attack will be coming much sooner than we would like. Chief Engineer Horton, please outline your progress in preparing our defences."

Before speaking the chief engineer reached down and picked up some of the strewn personal possessions and other detritus that still littered the floor. Placing these on a nearby table so they formed a crude outline of what remained of the ship he started to gesture towards various points.

"We have managed to stabilise the ships systems, there is no longer any risk of a catastrophic or explosive systems failure. In terms of weapons and shielding we have managed to bring the shields back online but they are a shadow of them former selves. The power flow is irregular and unreliable, they flicker and fade unpredictably. Also, even when the shields are working they are only giving out about fifteen to twenty percent of their former power. As far as the turrets are concerned we have been splitting the workforce between the turbo lasers and the point defence weapons about fifty fifty. Most of the forward section of the ship is entirely unsalvageable and working in the rear is dangerous. We may have plugged the leaks but everything there is still very fragile. We are still working there, don't get me wrong, but things are proceeding slowly."

Using his finger the chief engineer began pointing to the locations of several turbo lasers.

"Here, here and here. We have managed to bring three turbo lasers back online on the port side. We have two functional again to starboard, here and here. These lasers can be turned to fire forward. We also have one functioning to the rear but none of the bridge guns have been brought back online. As for point defence guns we have brought a smattering of them back online right across the ship."

Talon nodded his understanding and gestured towards the back of the ship on the crude outline rigged up by the chief engineer.

"Focus you efforts here now Horton. Once they work out this is our weakest spot they will put the weight of their air and ground assault here. Plus this is where we have our most exposed and explosive components. An errant torpedo here and the reactor could detonate."

Chief Engenier Horton was making a note of this when Jan interrupted.

"They won't put their ground forces there, too dangerous. They would have to walk through the trench the ship cut in the ground as she landed, that trench is now filled with fuel, plasma, coolant and various other substances you don't want to go wading through. Plus much of the liquid is highly flammable. Any man who walked through that would surely die." Whether Jan was making a helpful observation or if he was simply trying to do Talon down because he could, Talon did not know.

Regardless Talon made sure his original order stayed.

"None the less, I am worried a low flying X wing could put us all out of action if she was able to make a run on the rear section. We must make this point defensible. Speaking of which Jan, how go your preparations?"

"They are going well." Was his simple and curt reply. Talon had been expecting a more detailed report and Jan knew it. But Jan was still in a mood to be awkward and confrontational. After all, he still believed the man to have received his promotion improperly and he felt that Talon had put the lives of his troopers needlessly at risk by sending them out into the deadly cold. The fact everything had gone well hardly mattered to Jan, it was the fact Talon had taken the risk that angered him. As such he was giving the shortest, most uncooperative replies possible.

There were several seconds of awkward and charged silence between the two, Talon staring into that bleak white helmet. After a few moments though Talon broke the dead lock by saying.

“It seems I was not clear, please brief me on the layout of our defences and how you believe the enemy will behave." With these unambiguous instructions Jan was forced to give a more detailed answer.

"These ships were originally designed to hold large consignments of troopers, entire regiments. But given the lack of importance assigned to these vessels were down to only a few companies, without armour or artillery. We do however, have some support weapons and the armoury is well stocked enough to allow every crewman to carry a blaster. We have started setting up firing positions in and near the more tempting entry points. If the rebel dogs come at us there they will be slaughtered. They would have to advance across great stretches of open ground whilst we would be hiding behind barricades and heaps of twisted metal. If there commanders are smart they will send their troops at places where our hull is strong and where there are no access points. Those areas are also the gaps in our field of fire. Once they get to the hull they can start trying to climb up onto the ship or find some way of cutting through, though I doubt they will have brought the heavy kit needed to do that."

Jan also started to gesture to the crude outline of the ship.

"I have placed various lookouts across the ship just in case the rebels start crawling across the hull or they come from some unexpected angle. Roughly half of my men are manning the breaches whilst the other half are held in reserve near the armoury. I have also ordered several mini reserve pools be created out of normal naval crewmen and placed closer to the outer hull. These small squads should be able to hold any new breaches that may be made and delay the rebel troops until my troopers arrive." Jan fell silent for a while, not the aggressive silence of a few moments ago but rather a contemplative silence. After a while he said quietly. "We can hold here, I don't know for how long, but we can hold."

"We must hold." Was Talon's swift reply. "If we don't hold we die. We have nowhere to retreat and I will not contemplate surrender. Let us hope the Empire sends rescue swiftly." The plan was set, now all they could do was make ready, get more lasers back online, prepare the barricades as best they could. Gesturing to the two men Talon said simply. "Thank you gentlemen for your reports, return to your duties."

Obediently the pair marched out, followed a few moments later by Talon. But the young Lieutenant Commander was not going to assist in their efforts. Instead he was making for the medical bay. You did not have to know your way around the ship to find the place. The smell of blood and the groans of the wounded carried far. Jan's delivery of medical supplies had gone a long way, everyone was getting at least semi decent treatment now but the scene was still a mess. Those who were treated before the fresh deliveries were a particularly gruesome sight. Limbs had been amputated where the limited supplies meant they could not be saved. They had not been treated with bacta and instead had only the simplest of dressings. Many of them would not survive. Judging by the small collection of still bodies, huddled in a corner, several of them had already lost the fight.

The array of injuries was also unsettling, crushed and severed limbs were bad enough but it was the facial injuries that disturbed Talon the most. It was as if they had ceased to be men and had instead become gross parodies of them, beasts to haunt his nightmares. He knew he was wrong to think like that, they were still good men, better men than him even, but he was instinctively uncomfortable. He hoped he could surpass this failing, but he doubted that it would ever change.

Seeking out one of the medical staff Talon enquired in hushed tones.

"The Commander? Is he able to receive visitors yet?" The man shook his head in response.

"No, not yet. He is out of surgery but he is not out of the woods. His recovery will be a difficult one. He has also yet to regain consciousness, though considering his condition that may be a blessing.” The aid avoided Talon’s eyes as he spoke, his voice laced with sympathetic pain. “When he comes round he is going to be in a lot of pain, and possibly quite some shock. It will take him time to adjust."

Talon nodded his understanding, the thought was an unplesant one to consider, but he had to put such things aside if he was going to focus on his work. Turning, he began to depart saying.

"Keep me informed of his progress." When suddenly a hand shot out and grabbed him by the trousers.

"Lieutenant Rake." The voice was weak, desperate and strangely familiar. Talon would have forgiven any of these men for not being abreast of his promotion and so rather than correct the injured man he simply turned to look at his stricken comrade. It was none other than Yulish, the spindly comrade whose legs had been crushed by the falling torpedo and whom Talon had carried from the collapsing corridor.

Looking at the pale form of the man who was little more than a boy Talon noticed that one of his legs had been amputated, the other was only held together by some form of metal cage. Gently grasping Yulish's hand with his own Talon squatted down beside him and said.

"Yes Yulish, what is it?" His voice hushed, as if simple volume could break him, and filled with genuine concern.

"Did we get the torpedoes out? Did we stop the front section detonating?" It was a credit to Yulish, indeed the whole Imperial military, that when he was lying on what could well be his death bed his first thought was still of the mission. Cracking a slight smile Talon nodded and responded.

"Yes young man, we did. You did you job well. The ship landed successfully." Some may have disagreed with Talon's definition of success but that was a minor point. The news seemed to calm Yulish and he returned to just lying there, with a relieved sigh, breathing heavily but very much alive. Talon gently stood up and walked away, smiling inwardly and a renewed vigour in his step. With men and women like that on their side how could the Empire possibly lose?  



	7. The Storm Hits

Talon was walking around what remained of the ship, inspecting their state of readiness and calming nerves where he could, when he heard the low boom overhead. The whole ship fell silent and the entire crew looked up as one man. That was the sound of a ship entering the atmosphere, fast. It was swiftly followed by a few more low explosions. The ship's alarm system was still non-functional but no one needed to be told to go to action stations.

The whole ship was suddenly a swarm of activity, every man dashing to his post with a barely contained mixture of excitement, fear, panic and resolve. The cry of.

"Alarm!" Could be heard in the bowls of the ship, just in case a few people had not heard the ominous cacophony overhead. Talon dashed back towards his improvised command and control room, going the other way were several troopers, ramming on their helmets and buckling up their belts as they sprinted along the corridors. A few more communications stations had been installed in Talon’s little hub now and three computers had been patched into what remained of the bridge functions, the bridge itself was almost entirely deserted. Only a single fire team of storm troopers remained there now, prepared to use the elevated position to rain death down upon their foes.

"Order all guns to hold fire!" Talon's command was perhaps a little strange. But his order was obediently dispatched. A few seconds later an X wing, a craft which had become so associated with the old Rebellion and the New Republic that it might as well have been its flag, tore from the clouds in a sharp nosedive towards the ship. It seemed ready to crash into the hull in a suicidal attack, but the manoeuvrable fighter pulled up at the last moment and tore along the skin of what remained of the ship. Just as the Resolve did not fire nor did the X wing. Talon had correctly surmised that the first ship would be sent to probe the Resolve's defences, present a tempting target for her turbo lasers. This would allow the main attack force to know just how much of the Resolve was still operational and adjust their strategy accordingly. By not firing Talon made the Resolve seem utterly crippled and completely unable to defend herself, thus lulling the New Republic troops into a false sense of security and confidence, he hoped.

This strategy seemed to almost immediately pay off. After less than two minutes another wave of ships emerged. A large gaggle of troop transports, escorted by flanking X wings. They were coming in quite softly, not taking the hard nosedive of the scouting fighter. This was easier on the ships and their occupants but left them more vulnerable to fire. Seeing the situation on one of the computer monitors Talon ordered.

"All turbo lasers are to lock on to the troop transports. Make sure they all have unique targets, and the turrets are not to open fire until my order." Again, his instructions were obediently relayed. Talon remained staring at the screen, watching the enemy draw closer. Anxiously waiting until they were at optimum range before giving the order to fire.

Meanwhile the Republic ships had started to broadcast a message via loud hailer.  
"To any and all surviving Imperial troops. You are hereby order to surrender. Your situation is hopeless. Your ship is crippled, you are without friends here and you are deep in Republic territory. Surrender now and you will be treated with all the dignity and respect due to honest soldiers. Resist us in any form and we will be forced to kill you!"

Their message fell on deaf ears, the troops here were either too determined or too well disciplined to surrender. Instead, they squatted in their positions, silent defiance their only reply. The troop transports were on a trajectory to land on the upper hull itself, they would pay for their hubris. By now Talon was silently counting down in his head, careful not to rush the timing. There were a few moments of charged silence that seemed to last minutes, even hours in the mind of the Lieutenant Commander and his crew. Eventually though he placed both hands behind his back, as was Commander Aeron's custom, and calmly gave the order.

"All turbolasers, open fire."

A moment later the sky erupted into a crisscross of Imperial green laser fire, the noise could hit a man like a hammer and though the ships firepower was significantly reduced what turbo lasers they had left were more than capable of dealing with troop transports. The first wave of shots was as effective as Talon had hoped. Ship after ship went down, carrying who knows how many men and vehicles. Some exploded in the air, propelling red hot metal into the sides of nearby ships. Others lost power or lost control and span wildly into the planet's surface. One even smashed into the hull, but thankfully failed to penetrate the armour.

Still the turrets kept firing, bringing down a few more ships before the surprised pilots had any time to react. It only took a few moments though for the various craft to start peeling off. The X wings went low and accelerated hard, trying to dance and skip along the surface of the hull. But they were used to flying in the vacuum of space, the resistance and the currents of the air were alien to most pilots. This hampered their efforts somewhat and so, out of caution, none of them got quite as close to the hull as they were accustomed. This meant they were also less effective. The X wings were trying to knock out the turbo lasers which were still ignoring the agile fighters and concentrating on the easy prey that was the sluggish transports. Those signature red bolts started streaming from the fighters and smacking, with surprising accuracy, into the turrets. Fortunately though, even barely active capitol ship shields could still absorb the shots of a small fighter craft. More problematic were the torpedoes. Those had the potential to cause some serious damage if applied properly and allowed the X wings to punch well above their weight just as the Resolve's torpedoes had allowed it to punch above hers. On the first run only one enemy fighter tried launching a torpedo, it was sent directly at a starboard turret and at very close range. Had it hit, the turret would doubtless have been torn into a mess of screaming metal and billowing flame. However, the point defence guns did their work. Upon noticing the incoming torpedo two of them tracked it faster than a human operator ever could and let out a constant stream of bolts, tearing into the warhead and detonating it prematurely.

Usually, Talon would have ordered the point defence guns just to take pot shots at the X wings, they lacked the power of the turbo lasers but enough hits might be able to bring down a fighter. The problem though was that doing that put huge strain on the systems and Talon wanted to spare his guns as much as was possible. If the already fragile systems started burning out due to overuse his position would worsen rapidly. So, he was only allowing the point defence guns to be used to intercept torpedoes, as they were designed to do.

The turbo lasers meanwhile just kept firing, there was no shortage of targets to pick. The smart transport pilots were veering off to the left and right, hugging the ground as close as they dared. They were making for long but shallow hills, if they could get behind them they would be able to safely unload their cargo and then hide there until the Resolve's AA had been knocked out. The less talented pilots were heading up into the sky in a desperate bid for the safety of space. This however, made them exceptionally easy targets and the turbo lasers were picking them off like a rifleman on a range. Every now and again a small hail of twisted, melting, metal would rain from the sky and smash into the hull with the dull clangs of a thousand miss tuned bells. It was not long until the sky was clear of transports. They were either hiding behind the rolling hills or had been blown out of the air, the majority had suffered the latter fate. But Talon was not about to relax just yet. Enough troops had landed to pose a problem if not properly handled and the fighters were still very much in the sky. The Resolve had inflicted a heavy blow, now they were going to be made to pay for it.

The fighters were coming back around for another run and this time they were approaching from the vulnerable rear. Talon could feel a knot form in his throat, if a torpedo got in there… he did not like to contemplate what would happen next. He could only hope the engineering team had done their job. A hail of red bolts flew from the X wings and the ship jostled with their impact. She was a much more fragile thing now and the rear was practically unarmoured, even laser fire could do some damage there. Thankfully the shields were absorbing the majority of the shots, but Talon was mindful of their fickleness. The shields could drop at any moment and without warning. The lone turbo laser turret which was still functioning in the aft span to face the attackers and opened fire. Though it failed to hit anything it forced the X wings to break formation and make sudden course corrections, sending the majority of their shots off target. Only two fighters were still on course when they got to optimal torpedo range and both craft let off a single warhead before peeling off to safety. Talon watched the shots hurtling towards them on a nearby monitor. He stood there in agonising silence, the only clue to how tense he truly felt was how tightly he was holding his hands behind him. He was squeezing them so hard he thought he could feel his bones start to crack and crumble. The point defence guns sprung into life, turned and fired. The engineers had clearly listened to Talon's instructions. A great many of them had been brought back online in the rear and three guns fired on each warhead, safely detonating them well before they reached their target. Encouraged by this display Talon felt incredibly relieved and allowed himself to relax a little.

With no other targets to fire on all the turbo lasers were now trying to pick off the X wings. Eight of them had come down with the transports, which combined with the scouting X wing made nine in all. Since they were now the sole targets of the turbo lasers their avenues of approach were being shut down one by one. A bold X wing pilot thought he saw an opening and jumped up above the rest of his comrades before arching back on himself and flying, upside down, towards the bridge. The pilot clearly meant to knock out what remained of command and control, unknowing that bridge functions had been rerouted to the officer's quarters. Not only was the pilot's run a waste of his time but it ended up dooming him. Two turbo lasers tracked him and caught him in a crossfire, the pilot never stood a chance. His engine was hit and soon after it detonated in a brilliant white flash. The heat was so intense that very little metal survived the explosion, the pilot's flesh and bone would have been turned to dust and steam. It served as a stark reminder to the crew of the Resolve as to what would happen if their own engine detonated.

Made cautious by the death of their colleague the remaining X wing pilots were only taking the most conservative courses of action. They were doing everything in their power to stay away from the turbo lasers and this meant they were unable to attack vital areas. Every now and again the ship would rock with the hit of laser fire or even the occasional torpedo impact as the shields failed and they attacked blind spots in AA coverage. But the damage they were causing was little more than cosmetic now. They might cause the occasional hull breach but that was no longer the disaster it once was. It was like smashing an already broken speeder with a stick, you were not going to cause any further significant damage. The only hopes they had of achieving that were making runs on the rear or knocking out the turrets, neither of which they had the courage to do.

This state of affairs continued for some time before the Republic ground troops began to come into view. They appeared on the starboard side, a screen of soldiers, loosely spread out and advancing in skirmish order. Talon did not give orders to open fire, the task of dealing with ground troops he had devolved entirely to Jan. The only time Jan needed Talon's authority to do something relating to the ground fight was if he needed to borrow the turbo lasers.

Jan spied the troops through a pair of range finders, a seditious smile growing beneath his helmet. He was huddled in a maintenance space between the inner and outer hulls, looking out through a hole made by the explosion which had sent them hurtling towards this barren world. Around him he had a few other storm troopers, less for combat but more for the passing on of orders and messages. The enemy were within range of some of his guns already, but he wanted to let them come on a little, let them get some distance away from the crest of the hill. The Republic troops were moving forward quickly. They knew being out in the open was unwise so they were running forward as fast as they could.

After about a minute Jan turned to one of his fellow troopers and said.

"T21's and light blaster cannon are to open fire." The T21 was a marvellous weapon, small enough to be carried by one man, though only just, it could lay down a near constant stream of fire at long range. It was perhaps a little lacking in accuracy and penetration power but against massed infantry or for the purposes of suppression it was an ideal tool. The light blaster cannon meanwhile was anything but light. Originally designed to be mounted on vehicles this weapon combined firepower, fire rate and accuracy. It could penetrate light armour at close range and had become a favoured tool of storm troopers defending prepared positions. However, it was so large and so heavy it had to be mounted on a tripod prior to firing and it needed a three-man team to move, one man to carry the gun, one to carry the tripod and a third to carry the power packs.

A few moments after the order was given various little holes in the hull suddenly erupted in blaster fire. The defenceless infantry that was their target stood little chance. Some men surged forward in a desperate bid to get to the Imperial guns, others turned and ran for the far side of the hill whilst others froze in shock and panic. None of the three choices would result in these troops living. The nearest shelter was too far away and there was too much open ground between them and the ship.

From the stormtrooper’s position the resulting slaughter was clinical. But if you had been unfortunate enough to be standing in that field you would have been confronted with a mess of shattered bones and mangled bodies. Limbs torn clean off, the exposed muscle cooking with the heat from the blaster bolts. Men's chests blown wide open in a display of gore and sinew that would etch itself into your memory. Men fell limp upon the ground, or worse hit it screaming and writhing in twisted agony. The sound of the wails and the desperate pleading to mother's and deities who were not there could echo in a man's mind for the rest of his life. The smell of the warm blood and the steaming flesh was more repulsive than the stench of ancient decay.

Jan had been on the receiving end of such punishment in the past, he knew exactly what it was like to be down there in that field. That knowledge through gave him some comfort. He knew exactly how much those Rebel dogs were suffering and he believed they deserved every second of it.

So far, the battle had gone well for the Imperial troops but they all knew that might not last. After a few moments, the attack patterns of the X wings changed. Jan eyed their approach suspiciously, attempting to work out what they were doing. When he saw them swing round though a horrid realisation hit him.

"Get down!" He bellowed, diving to the floor and pulling another trooper along with him. Seconds later laser fire rippled along the side of the ship. The already twisted bulkheads overhead buckled slightly as one of the supports failed and the bulkhead had to take the extra weight. One stray bolt almost smashed right into their shelter. Thankfully, the shot only landed there by chance, this position had not yet been spotted. Some of the hidey holes that had opened fire a few moments ago however, were not so fortunate. The X wings were coming in in a chain, no sooner had one strafed a position than another one was there ready to do the same. They were thoroughly hammering the trooper firing positions. Jan realised with a sunken heart that some of his men would surely have been killed, those that were not dead were at the very least keeping their heads down.

Jan could hear the turbo lasers overhead desperately trying to shoot the X wings down, but they were flying beneath the gun’s maximum defilation. The X wings would have to fly a little way out to no longer be in the gun’s blind spots. Jan was wondering what to do about this when another X wing came in for a pass. Diving to the floor one more Jan sheltered his head with his hands as debris fell about him. He could feel dust and rubble clatter off of his clean white armour. This observation post was not going to last much longer. From there the situation only got worse.

Staggering to his feet Jan looked out of the hole one more time. Over the crest of the hill he could see four armed and armoured troop transports emerging. Often referred to as attack tanks these things were large vehicles, similar in design to Imperial juggernauts, though the Republic’s version had smother angels. Their ten wheels were large and the main body of the vehicle sat high above them, allowing it to roll across almost any terrain and they could carry a decent sized compliment of troops. Worse still they had substantially powerful laser cannons, laser cannons which were now opening fire on the side of the Resolve. Combine this with the X wing fire and the support weapons of the troopers were taking a colossal hammering.

"Order all support weapons and attached troopers to retreat inside the ship, prepare for corridor to corridor fighting. Those troopers who have not been fired upon will hold position. Relay a request to Lieutenant Commander Rake, I need him to bring the turbo lasers to bear on those vehicles now!"

The order went out and Jan waited for a few moments, wondering if Talon would indeed give him the support fire he had requested. Jan was worried that Talon was either too stupid or too petty to lend this aid. He stood there for a few nervous moments as the turbo lasers remained resolutely focused on the X wings. Jan was just about to stride over to his new Lieutenant Commander and put a blaster bolt in between his eyes when one of the turrets swung round and fired on the vehicles. These great guns were designed for ship-to-ship combat. They may be old, but these things could put holes in former confederacy capitol ships, armoured vehicles were no problem and compared to X wings they were moving very slowly. The first shot landed a solid hit and the attack tank erupted in a mess of flame, metal and spinning wheels. The explosion would have been deafening and disorientating for anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby, as well as extraordinarily lethal. The turbolaser turned and fired again, the green bolts tearing forward and striking a second vehicle, which suffered much the same fate as the first. By now the vehicle drivers were going as fast as they could and veering wildly from side to side in an effort to avoid the lethal turbolasers. But despite their best efforts they were still sluggish compared to the agile targets the gunners were used to tracking. As such a third vehicle was hit and destroyed with no difficulty.

The turbo laser moved to fire on the fourth and final vehicle when disaster struck. Since one of the lasers was busy dealing with the ground vehicles a hole had opened up in the AA coverage, a hole the X wings exploited. One observant pilot had taken the opportunity to pop up into what would otherwise have been a protected area and make a run on the turbo laser that was pounding the ground troops. The X wing fired everything it had, a volley of laser fire and two torpedoes hurtled towards the turret at breakneck speed. A nearby point defence gun did what it could, it could not do enough. One torpedo was prematurely detonated but the other, and all the laser shots, hit home. To make matters worse the shields happened to be at particularly low ebb at that point. The turret erupted in a brilliant flash of green fire. The explosion spread down one of the plasma feeds, causing a secondary detonation at a plasma distribution centre. This blew a hole in the top deck of the ship, ripping straight through the hull and creating another gaping void that would have been disastrous in space, but crashed as they already were that damage was no longer so serious.

Revenge for the turret's destruction came quickly. Before the X wing could dive back down into the blind spot a second turbo laser turret had swung to face and dealt swift justice. The X wing erupted into a ball of flame to rival the burning remnants of the turret. But the wrecked turret was still creating problems. The flames had begun to catch and were starting to spread through the nearby area, filling the corridors with thick, dusky smoke.

The same was happening at the plasma distribution centre, creating an ominous pillar of black fumes which coiled up into the air live a viper, sinking the hearts of the crew of the Resolve and inspiring their attackers.

"Dispatch fire and emergency repair crews to the affected areas." Commanded Talon. "Report on the functionality of all remaining turbo lasers and point defence guns." His concern was that the destruction of the plasma distribution centre would bring other guns offline. After a few moments of checking one of the crewmen in his improvised command centre replied.

"All turbo lasers are operational, the engineers put them all on different feeds. We have lost half the point defence guns on the starboard side however." The reply was calm and matter of fact, as was Talon's nod of understanding. What Talon wanted to do was punch a wall but that would not have been an appropriate display in front of the men.

Meanwhile, the fourth and final attack tank managed to reach one of the hull breaches. The roar and rumble of its engines could even be heard over the cacophonous blasts of the turbo lasers. The cannons atop the attack tank shifted their targets to the nearest stormable hole and started putting shot after shot into the gap, blasting away at anything that might be there. Unfortunately for Jan there were some storm tropers hiding in ambush in that breach, armed with E11 blaster rifles they had been waiting for the enemy to get close and then open fire, and since they had no support weapons they had previously avoided the pounding from the tanks and the X wings. But this bombardment was enough to destroy their cover, inflict some casualties and force the remainder to retreat into the bowls of the ship, though being highly trained troopers, they did so in good order.

With no one left to oppose their boarding the doors at the back of the vehicle fell open and Republic troops swarmed out with a great and zealous cry, there must have been at least three dozen men. Not enough to take the ship but enough to establish a beachhead through which other troops could be safely ferried. Jan had been hoping to avoid the grim and bloody affair that was close quarters combat but it seemed that option had been stolen from him. He was just about to abandon his position and personally lead the effort to drive the Rebel dogs off of his ship when he noticed the transport doors close and the vehicle start reversing away. It would only do that if there were more men behind the hill for it to pick up and ferry in. This was bad news, very bad news indeed. Jan had been hoping there would at least be a decent sized delay between waves, giving him and his men enough time to reclaim the lost ground. He had imagined the enemy would have to land more men via shuttle, it seemed not. This would make the fight considerably harder.

Still, there was nothing he could do about that now. Picking up his own E11 Jan started to head out when he noticed a strange movement out the corner of his eye. Something had come away from the ship and was moving at some speed towards the still reversing vehicle. Putting his rangefinders to his eyes Jan looked out and what he saw would have cause his jaw to drop, had there been any room for that in his helmet. It was a scout trooper. One of his scouts had jumped off the ship, presumably from a low and exposed deck, and was now dashing towards the tank. It seemed to be carrying a blaster in one hand and several small satchels in the other. Jan recognised those satchels, they were full of explosives. With the amount of firepower that scout was carrying you could bring down a medium sized building.

Paralyzed by a combination of anticipation, suspense and concern for his undeniably brave colleague Jan just stood there and watched, gently whispering to himself.

"Come on lad….come on…come on!" The young scout trooper had yet to be spotted by any of the Republic troops and so was able to reach the tank without much difficulty. That did not however, stop Jan's heart racing at what felt like four hundred beats per minute. Jan could make out the trooper throwing one of the charges under one of the wheel arches before diving behind a piece of fallen ship debris in order to shelter from the inevitable explosion.

The bang was like a lightning bolt hitting the ground right next to you, just as loud, just as sudden and just as unnerving. More unnerving for the crew of the vehicle however. Not only were several of the axels smashed and shattered beyond any hope of movement despite being armoured, but the explosion was so forceful that it flipped the back end of the vehicle up and though the blast was by no means powerful enough to send the vehicle spinning into a cartwheel the tank did twist as it fell back down, forcing it to land on its side and immobilising it completely. The crew, panicked by this turn of events, bailed out a few moments later only to find the waiting blaster of the scout trooper, who calmly gunned them down as they scrambled desperately out of the escape hatch.

This Republic assault had quickly escalated from costly to disastrous. Shocked by the sudden destruction of their one remaining support vehicle the several dozen republic troops began to stall, unsure of their ground. Ceasing upon this those troopers who had initially been pushed back by the tank’s fire surged as one man back to their initial positions. It did not take much, one or two shots from their weapons, for Republic moral to completely snap. But rather than run, for these three dozen men had no place to go, they instead surrendered. It started slowly, with one man throwing down his weapon and raising his hands. The other's followed suit one by one, realising that further resistance would only lead to death.

Jan however, was not a man accustomed to taking prisoners. He had been tempted, so very sorely tempted to kill the Rebel scum from the town, to shoot him in cold blood. But here his blood was running hot, some of his men had just died and others were doubtless wounded. This scum he saw before him was actively resisting the rightful rule of the Empire this very day! How could he suffer such people to live? By the time he arrived on the scene the prisoners had been assembled in neat rows, all kneeling down and all with their hands upon their heads. Had Jan not been suffering from tunnel vision he might have noticed that the X wings had stopped their attack runs, presumably unwilling to mount an assault whilst the enemy had hostages. Instead, they were simply circling around, avoiding the turbo lasers but taking no further action.

"Get these people inside now!" Jan barked. This was partly to get everyone, including his own men under cover, and partly to give himself more time to intellectually justify what he instinctively wanted to do, which was to shoot every single one of them in the head. This filth had to die, they deserved to die!

After a while all the Republic troopers were lined up inside an already cramped corridor, the smell of smoke from the nearby fire just detectable whilst the repetitive boom of the turbo lasers overhead was echoing down the halls and vibrating through the metal. Jan felt his hand go slowly for his blaster, his fingers curling gently around the grip when all of a sudden, he heard a familiar voice.

"Sir! What are you doing sir?" It was Lani. Who, judging by the look of it and by virtue of the fact they were the only scout trooper in this corridor must have been the soldier who destroyed the transport. Turning slowly to his subordinate Jan said with a calm quiet that was infinitely more intimidating than unbridled shouting.

"You have done excellent work today trooper. You should leave now, take some rest." Jan could tell from Lani's tone that the young trooper both knew what Jan was planning and disapproved of it. As such Jan wanted to be rid of the scout as quickly as was possible. Lani stood there for a few terrifying moments, the tension in the corridor was palpable as every man wondered whether or not Lani would try to prevent Jan from carrying out the executions. Eventually though the scout trooper just gave a smart click of the heel and a sharp reply of.

"Sir!" Before turning around and walking away in that curious feline manner.

This was it, there was nothing to stop Jan now. Pacing up and down the line of prisoners with increasing speed and tension Jan was picking out his first victim. He was so enraged he was losing track of time, minutes passed as he half paced half ran up and down the tight corridor, rumbling like a volcano. The Republic men were as scared as Jan was angry and one of their number, shivering like a frightened child, said in a quiet voice.

"Please don't hurt us." Spinning on the man who had just unwittingly volunteered to be the first victim Jan instantly resorted to violence. Clenching his fist the trooper landed a heavy blow on the man's jaw, the crack of bone was just audible. This was swiftly followed by Jan planting his armoured boot into his victim's chest, sending the soldier sprawling backwards and bouncing off the wall only to recoil into Jan's fist once more, this time sharply punching him in the nose and breaking it cleanly. The Republic soldier, blood streaming from his face, teeth clenched and eyes watering in pain, slowly sank to the floor in a little heap.

Drawing his weapon Jan levelled it at the man's head and prepared to pull the trigger. Before he did so however, he indulged in his anger and hatred of this man and all his kind. Leaning down Jan almost whispered into the man’s ear with a menacing quiet.

"Please don't hurt us? How dare you? You and your kind destroyed everything. The galaxy was a place fit for titans before your filthy kind tore down everything that was great and left us with a vile society littered with self-serving worms who know nothing of their own insignificance! Men who labour under the petty delusions that their own lives somehow matter and who contribute nothing to the great engine of the galaxy! No suffering, no torment is too extreme in the punishment of your kind Rebel dog!"

Though the Republic soldier may not have been grateful for the assault, both verbal and physical, he should have thanked Jan for it. Had Jan just shot the man there and then, he would not have lived to see Talon round the corner of the corridor. The Lieutenant Commander was striding with the confidence and purpose only an Imperial officer could muster. Add to that a parade ground sharpness to his movements and you had quite the man. A few paces behind Talon was Lani, who had clearly run to the most senior member of the crew who was still conscious and asked him to intervene.

Jan could guess why Talon was here, to stop the executions. Jan was sorely tempted to turn on his senior and shoot him for being a traitor as well. In Jan's mind anyone who stood up for the Rebel scum might as well be a Rebel themselves and was only slightly less treasonous.

"Who is the most senior Republic officer here?" Enquired Talon in a surprisingly even and proper manner when compared to the tempestuous Jan. After a few moments of nervous glancing and low-level mumbling one man stood forward and stated in worried tones.

"I am. Lieutenant Mantok of the New Republic….sir."

Walking forward to the officer Talon began to remove one of his gloves. The Republic soldier thought he would be struck about the face with it. What actually happened however, was in no way what the man was expecting. Extending his now bare hand Talon said.

"As the ranking officer aboard this vessel I hereby formally accept your surrender."

Confused the Republic officer extended his own hand whereupon Talon gave it a single firm handshake. It felt more like the winning team congratulating the losing team at a sporting event than the aftermath of a slaughter. Talon continued in a manner that seemed only to reinforce this notion.

"I apologise for the conduct of some of my men, passions run high, I am sure you understand. Your wounded men will be taken to our medical facility and treated as soon as we have seen to our own injured. We will then find you somewhere to sleep, somewhere to eat. I can assure you that you will be treated with all the respect that a professional soldier deserves, so long as you obey our rules and make no attempt to escape you will be treated well." Gesturing towards Lani Talon added. "I will leave you in the capable care of my chief scout trooper and his scouts. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a ship to run."

Turning on his heel Talon began striding away, calling out after him.

"Jan, take your troopers and prepare for another attack, we don't know when they will come again." Then the Lieutenant Commander drifted out of sight, giving a variety of orders, chiefly in relation to the point defence grid. A few moments later the stormtroopers began to file away. At first, they remained coldly silent but one of them rammed his shoulder into Lani as he passed saying threateningly.

"You went behind Jan's back. You stabbed him in it. That man has done more for this ship and for you than that jumped up Talon ever will!" Another trooper, inspired by the example of the first similarly bumped into the slightly built Lani and added.

"Why stand up for these traitors? They all deserve a slow death, why prevent it? Unless of course you're a Rebel sympathiser. Is that it? I bet Imperial Intelligence will just love to hear about that." After a while through they had all gone, and Lani was left with the prisoners in an uncomfortable silence.

Talon meanwhile, was back in his improvised command centre, assessing the situation. The X wings had peeled off, unwilling to attack men who were holding their comrades prisoner. Instead, they were circling the ship a safe distance away, keeping an eye on the Resolve. Things had devolved into a stalemate. A result he was happy with as it was the best possible outcome the Imperial troops could have hoped for. Talon was thankful that they had won the day but could not help but be a little afraid of what tomorrow might bring.


	8. A Novice Negotiator

The battle may have been won, for now, but the crew of the Resolve were far from safe. Who knew how many New Republic troops still squatted over that ridge? More importantly there were still enemy ships in orbit and, after the latest display of defiance from the Remnant, more would doubtless be on their way. Should the enemy choose the Resolve could be blasted into atoms from orbit once a sufficiently large ship arrived. It was only due to the lack of such a craft that they had not done so before, or so Talon thought. It could have been the New Republic’s pride or perhaps a desire to capture classified data had played some role in stopping them. Now Talon had something more tangible to stop them, hostages. The new Lieutenant Commander found using prisoners of war as hostages distasteful, it was certainly against the old codes of military conduct. But here, in this frozen hell, with the enemy at his gates and rescue a distant prospect those old ethics were something he just could not afford.

Talon had struggled long and hard with the decision, it had been several hours since the Republic attack, almost a day. Though X wings patrolled the skies well above the reach of the Resolve's remaining guns, they had not made another move. It had taken all this time to for Talon to wrestle his conscious into line. But his first duty was to the Empire, the second his mission, his third to his ship and his fourth to his crew. The ship was lost and none of the other three would be well served by refusing to use the prisoners as the bargaining chips that they were. Now came another, even harder question. How in all of the galaxy do you go about a hostage negotiation? He had received no training on this topic and what training there was in the galaxy was usually aimed at improving the performance of the people who wanted to release the hostages rather than the people who already had them. So, he was going to have to improvise.

He had already dispatched Lani to salvage some communication equipment form the disabled Republic vehicle, and tasked one of his engineers with ensuring it was in working order and not any kind of threat to their own security systems. Now, he was staring at that very communication equipment which he had set up in what was now a blind corridor deep in the twisted and battered recesses of the once proud ship. He hated to admit it to himself, and he certainly would not admit it to the rest of the ship. But he was more than a little nervous, even afraid about this. He was more comfortable in the blazing wreck as it tore towards the frozen planet. That he had been mentally prepared for since he first signed up for the academy and he had been drilled time and time again on crash procedures but this, this was well out of his comfort zone. He found himself having to mentally work himself up to the challenge just like the first time he had been ordered to fight a fellow cadet during his training. It was made all the worse for the fact that he knew both the reliable Lani and the ranking Republic officer were waiting for him in a tiny little side room that had once been a decent sized lounge area for some of the NCOs. Now a buckled wall and collapsed ceiling had left it just large enough for two or three men to stand up in. He had his little stage performance all lined up. Now all he had to do was pick up the communicator and try to sound a little convincing.

After a few more minutes of nervous hesitation Talon shot his hand forward and snapped up the device, as if it were a scuttling spider about to tear off into the shadows and hide. Putting the business end to his ear Talon spoke in tones which were surprisingly calm and authoritative given the nervous wreck he was on the inside.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Talon Rake, commanding officer aboard the Imperial vessel Resolve. I am calling for the Commander Aries of the New Republic vessel Swift." Talon had obtained both the name of the commanding officer and the name of the lead ship from talking to the most senior of his captives. Giving such information was little more than giving name rank and number but the Republic officer had revealed more than he ought. The captive had been labouring under the misapprehension that Talon didn't know the names and classes of the local New Republic ships, but Talon knew them all too well. The Resolve had been hunting in this region of space for some time, and evading the local Republic presence all the while. During those weeks the Resolve had picked up quite a bit of information about their pursuers. Protocol stated that when several officers of the same rank had to establish a chain of command the officer with the highest stated authority was at the top of pile. Practically speaking this usually meant the officer with the highest class of vessel at his command. If the Swift was leading the Republic's efforts here, then that meant the Swift was the most significant vessel in the skies above and she was only an aging EF76 Nebulon B frigate. Those things had put in good service but like the Resolve they were old and outdated, though not quite as decrepit as the Resolve. More importantly though she was only an escort frigate. Even an old Confederacy Cruiser could turn her into dust. So, if an Imperial class star destroyer came to the aid of the Resolve, nothing in the sky above could stop it. But rescue was a distant prospect. For now, Talon had to concentrate on just surviving

After a few moments, and hushed muttering a strangely normal voice came back down the line.

"This is Commander Aries. We know you have hostages, how are they?" The voice didn't just seem normal but tired and perhaps a little fed up. Clearly Aries wasn't at his mental best. Truth be told the New Republic officer had been restless since the failed assault, it had been a shaming defeat for him and now he had to deal with a hostage crisis. It was only a combination of fear and caffa that kept Captain Aries on his feet, a situation not entirely dissimilar to Talon, though Talon did a better job of hiding it.

Talon’s reply was smart and to the point.

"You can speak with one of them yourself Commander." Then, calling out in a louder voice. "Bring in the prisoner." When Lieutenant Mantok, the most senior captive, was once again brought before Talon he seemed just as cowed as before, though now he was less afraid. Talon had been true to his word, the captives were hardly living in luxury but they were warm, safe, fed and those who needed it had received medical attention.

Passing over the communicator to the Republic officer Talon just lent back on the upturned crate he was using as a chair, steepling his fingers as he listened to the ensuing conversation.

"This is Lieutenant Mantok speaking."

"Mantok? It's Aries, how are you?" The Republic commander had lost all pretence at authority and impartiality, he was speaking like a concerned friend rather than a soldier. Talon couldn't blame the man. The young Imperial had friends on this ship to, friends whom he would genuinely be concerned about were they in Mantok's position. Talon just thought he would have done a better job at maintaining his calm and impartial aura. Then again, you never know until it happens to you.

The conversation continued.

"I'm fine sir, a little cut up but okay."

"Cut up? Have they..." Suddenly Aries was wide awake, his voice tinged with panic and rage. He had read a little too much into his junior's choice of wards. A mistake Mantok swiftly corrected.

"No no, their commander has acted like a gentlemen. We have been treated well." His words were as calming as they were quick, as if he were trying to settle a nervous man with a gun. Come to think of it that was almost exactly what he was doing. Aries took a long breath to still himself before asking in considerably more level tones.

"How many of you are there?"

"Thirty six men here sir. Six wounded. They have been treated and are as comfortable as can be expected".

There was a pause of contemplation before Aries seemed to start suddenly and continue his questioning with concern still etching his voice. 

"What about the rest of the men?" 

"Well I don't know how many we still have sheltered behind the ridge, but I imagine you know that. Aside from we thirty six though sir I don't think there are any survivors. The Imperial gunners were through." There was a few moments of heavy and sorrowful sadness. It was obvious Mantok was thinking on a lost comrade, perhaps picturing the torn and twisted bodies , something akin to that. It was written all over his face. Even the quiet from the communicator seemed loaded with the same emotion. But Aries regained control of the conversation and asked by way of distraction.

"But you are well?"  
"Quite well." Again there was that long, dark silence.

But this time it was Talon who ended it as he leaned forward and gently took the communicator back from Mantok. Glancing at Lani he said.

"Thank you soldier, you may return the prisoner to his men now." With that Lani gently guided Republic trooper out whilst Talon returned to business. "Now then. I've been fair and good. Let us talk officer to officer. Provide me and my men with adequate shuttles to leave the system and I guarantee every prisoner will be handed over to you without harm." It was too much to ask for but Talon didn't know how else to open.

Commander Aries however, knew how to respond.  
"No." His reply was firm and definite. "You aren't leaving this system. You aren't even leaving this planet unless it is in our custody. If you hand over the hostages, you will be treated well. I might even put in a few words to get you moved to the top of the prisoner transfer list if our two armies ever do a swap but that's it. Truth be told you will likely be spending the rest of your little war behind bars. If you resist you will be spending the war in a labour camp and if you so much as bruise one of my men..." the threat went unspoken, but was all the more potent for it. Talon had not been expecting this kind of confident opposition. After the emotional display of a mere seconds ago he was expecting grudging complicity. Instead, he seemed only to have angered Aries.

But Talon was not about to back down either, surrender was almost unthinkable to him, and he thought it unthinkable to his crew as well.

"You know full well I can't accept those terms. A true Imperial would sooner die than voluntarily submit to capture." This was supposed to be the beginning of some noble speech by Talon but Aries abruptly cut him off.

"True Imperial!" The man sounded offended by the very concept. "This ideal of Empire is a myth, there is no such thing and there are no true Imperials. Your Remnant cling on because they have nowhere else to go. Even in the high times your mob only fought for your own worth. Go on. Ask your crew. See if they would rather die for this corpse of an Empire you cling on to. Or maybe they would rather see their families once this little resistance of yours is finally stamped out! Maybe you dream of a time that never was but they will not follow you. Ask them!"

Some men may have been unsettled by the accusation, provoked into introspection. For Talon however, it only served to further convince him of how ignorant the enemy was, both of the truth and of his crew. He knew that even the storm troopers, for all they may resent him personally, would rather die by his side than hand themselves over to the enemy.

But Talon also knew that this talk was not going his way and the longer he stayed on the line the worse it would get. Improvising desperately the man sighed and said.

"I do not believe you are right. But what sort of officer would I be if I did not consult with my men? I agree to nothing but I will do as you ask. I will talk to them and weigh their opinions. But my crew is not insignificant and we are all very busy. It will take me at least a day to speak to them all." Talon was clawing for as much time as he could. He wasn't thinking beyond tomorrow any more, just getting to tomorrow was challenge enough.

The reply that came back was surprisingly accommodating.

"You have eighteen hours Lieutenant Commander. Your men may not thank you for leading them into this mess but they might thank you for getting them out alive. Eighteen hours. I'll need your decision by then."

Talon could have given him his decision now but instead he said in a fake, small voice.

"Thank you, Rake out." Upon which Talon cut the communication and waited a few seconds to be entirely sure it was off. After which he leapt up, span around in a fury, and kicked the crate he had been sitting on so hard it smashed. It wasn't satisfying enough but Talon was out of things to obliterate. He was losing control of the situation and he did not like it. Thankfully he was alone, so there were no witnesses to the embarrassing display. The man bent over in frustration and gritted his teeth in silent rage, clenching his fists so hard they hurt. He remained like this for about ten or fifteen seconds before he regained his composure and straightened up, breathing heavily but once more himself. Spinning on his heel he stalked off down the corridor with a menacing purpose and grim determination. Snatching at his own internal communicator he brought it up to his lips and said. "All senior staff to the command room in seventeen C." Then, adding after a pause. "They come for us in eighteen hours."


	9. Breach

Eighteen hours ago Lieutenant Commander Talon Rake had failed to dig his men out of a very deep hole. Now the Republic troops were coming to bury them all in that hole. The crew of the Resolve had prepared as best they could, along similar lines to their previous defence. But they were weaker now. Crucially a vitally placed turbo laser had been knocked out leaving an obvious flaw in their defences, and only the fates knew what the Republic had waiting for them in space. Eighteen hours ago, Talon knew the Republic forces were all but spent. But in that time they could have flown in any amount of reinforcements. There might even be another cruiser overhead now and the troops carried aboard such a vessel would surely finish of the meagre Imperial defenders. Of course, this was all just be speculation on his part, but Talon knew in his bones they would come again and come stronger. It was the eighteen hour figure that troubled him. It was oddly specific. Six hours, twelve hours, two hours, a day. Those were the sorts of round figures that made sense. But Eighteen? That hinted at some other event occurring in that time which Commander Aries had been planning around and the chances of that development being favourable to the Imperials were very slim.

Right now Talon was standing in his improvised command room, deep in the bowels of the ship. A few of the old bridge crew were sat around him at crudely wired monitors and internal communicators, cables hung loosely about the place in a confusing display of multi coloured cords. Jan was also present, propped up against the wall with his arms folded. There was a heavy, chilly silence between the two men which ran deeper than the cold of the planet, neither of them able to bring themselves to speak first. All of a sudden, the looted Republic communicator went off, a high pitched repetitive beeping that made Talon's heart jump up into his throat.

Steadying himself after his momentary panic the young man walked slowly over to the device and picked up the receiver.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Talon Rake of the Imperial vessel Resolve." The man was clinging to formality like a child clung a blanket, barely able to conceal the uncertainty in his voice. The reply of Commander Aries was much more casual and confident.

"May I take it that you have consulted with your men and that you will spare their lives?" Something about those words must have flicked a switch in Talon's mind, perhaps something about their easy and self-assured tone, or the near arrogant assumption about his actions. Talon felt almost offended and suddenly he found his resolve strengthening, his ire rising, his pride and confidence returning in response.

His reply made as much clear in both his words and his tone.

"Sir, we are loyal Imperials. Do not judge us by your own standards. We shall fight you to the last man and the last round."

"Are you crazy?" It was not said like a threat, more like a concerned man trying to stop some frenzied lunatic doing something spectacularly stupid.

"No sir, just an Imperial officer." With that Talon promptly put the receiver down and looked over to Jan. "See to your men Major." Talon was referring to Jan by his trooper rank, the Corps and the Navy had different names for various ranks and Talon was still master of the ship, so he was still the superior officer, not that he wanted to revisit that thorny issue. Nor did Jan it seemed as rather than criticise the trooper just gave a silent, perhaps slightly approving, nod and walked out of the door. In Jan's eyes Talon had made several mistakes but this was certainly the right call.

Well, this was it, the die was cast. Nothing more to do now except hunker down and wait. A bit of him was still nervous and excitable. Talon wanted to ask questions, give orders but it would all have been pointless noise that only displayed his insecurity and unsettled the men. So, he instead settled for standing there, feet slightly apart, hands behind his back, just like the Commander.

After roughly an hour the enemy came, the wait alone damn near killed Talon. It started quietly but that was the point. The sun had set, and the only sources of light were the stars above and the occasional light from the windows and holes of the Resolve. The assault began when ten small ships with muffled engines quietly crested the hill and tore towards the Resolve less than ten meters above the ground. These were specialised ships with good pilots. The ships themselves were the size of a small gunship and were in fact specially designed insertion ships, they vaguely resembled the old clone LAAT/i, those iconic troop transports in the struggle against the confederacy. These new vessels were sleeker and with a lower profile but you could tell where the inspiration had come from.

Unfortunately, in the low light and with the barely functional sensors, the ships were first spotted mere seconds away from the Resolve, and by then it was too late. They had flown right into the hole in the turbo laser coverage before pulling up and skipping along the hull to the base of the bridge tower in the blink of an eye. The mere fact they were here at all was astounding. They must have been fresh reinforcements from a new ship overhead. Furthermore, they could only have breached the atmosphere a long way away and flown up to the hill at subsonic speeds, or else the Resolve would have heard them coming. The men behind this latest assault were clever, too clever.

The soldiers carrying out the assault were clearly skilled as well, the doors of the insertion ships had slid open before they even touched the deck and Republic troops started to pour out of the vessels, six men from each, sixty in all. Talon responded to the assault with the same speed the aggressors had shown.

"Turn the nearby point defence guns on the infantry." The man was calm and authoritative again. The waiting had unnerved him but now that the first shot was about to fly, he was in his element once more. It was a proper fight at last! The closest two point defence guns span around with inhuman speed and robotic precision, pouring green death into the disembarking infantry. But the Republic men were ready. In the space of five seconds the assault team had fired off two rockets, knocking out both guns and securing the landing zone. True they had lost three men in those few moments but those were astoundingly light casualties.

Before the guns, and their associated cameras, were destroyed Talon got a look at the enemy running about above him. They looked like lightly armoured scout troopers, with very similar body armour but their legs and arms were less protected. They even wore near identical helmets, though the face mask portion had been removed. Unlike scout troopers though these men were bristling in kit, with bigger guns and more tools than you would think you would ever need. Talon knew exactly what these men were, and it gave him no comfort. Raising Jan on the communicator Talon said very matter of factly.

"There are currently fifty seven enemy commandos on the hull, at the base of the command tower."

Jan's reply was similarly brief and devoid of inflection.

"Message received and understood. Out." Both men's calm concealed their worry. The general quality of Republic infantry was still poor. They had high moral but lacked proper training and discipline. More importantly they lacked good junior officers. Commandos, however, were a different story. Just as the old Rebel fleet made up for its lack lustre capital ships with superb fighters and small craft so too did the Republic army make up for poor core troops with excellent commandos. Without functioning cameras in the area Talon wondered what the commandos were up to. A minute’s waiting and a large boom answered his question.

"Hull breach at the base of the bridge tower" called one of his junior crew. So... they were in. It was not hard to guess where they were going, the bridge. The enemy likely believed the ship was still controlled from there. If the enemy wanted to move with speed, they would not crawl up the maintenance ladders but would instead try to crawl up the turbo lift shafts.

"Activate the turbo lifts!" Ordered Talon. "Make them go up and down as fast as you can." His idea was to make the shafts too hazardous to travel but the foe were ahead of him.

"Sir, they cut the power." That was hardly a surprise, merely a disappointment. "I have alerted the troopers on the bridge." There was but a single fire team up there. At range they might have stood a chance but up close and against commandos? The question was not if they would die but rather how many Republic dogs would they take with them?

The commandos had launched grappling hooks up to the turbo lift shafts right to the bridge level, automatic winches rocketed them up at great speed and the first man to the top began cutting open the door. This unfortunate soldier received a great surprise. Whilst the lifts may not have been working the doors still had power. The moment the glow of thermal cutters was seen by the Imperial troops the doors flew open and two troopers poured blaster fire into the defenceless man. He was not even able to reach for his weapon. Instead, he was blown back and bounced off of the far wall, eventually coming to rest and just limply hanging by his cord, several glowing, steaming holes in his chest hissing as they gently cooled. A third trooper whipped out his thermal detonator and, putting it on a short timer, chucked it down the shaft. There was the odd clang of it bouncing off of a few walls followed by an almighty blast intermingled with the sound of tearing metal and tortured screams. The troopers had no way of knowing how many it had killed or injured, but it had clearly had some effect. Unfortunately, the Republic's reply was even louder. Six grenades came tearing back up out of the shaft, four thermal detonators and two stun grenades. All six went off at almost the exact same moment creating a mixture of heat, light and sound that made it seem as though the world itself were ending. For four troopers the world did end. Even their armour could do nothing against a blast of that magnitude and the computers and rubble they hid behind did little to help.

Now only two troopers were left. One of them was manning a light blaster cannon whilst the other was on his communicator trying to update command.

"Bridge team down... only two of us." His words were almost being drowned out by the frantic fire of the blaster cannon. The gunner was still semi blind from the blast and so he was just firing wildly in the general direction of the enemy. "We won't hold out for..." His communication was suddenly cut off and only static filled the airwaves. Talon, back down in his command post gave an unusual order.

"Power down any shields we may have near the bridge. Turn one turbo laser on the bridge itself, another on the tower. Bring it down." He was unusually calm, almost casual, in giving the order to turn guns on his own ship. This was merely a result of his absolute certainty.

One of his men however, was not so relaxed and saw fit to challenge Talon's orders.

"But sir!" The Lieutenant Commander sharply, cut him off having predicted the question.

"We have no men there, only the Republics best. Now fire." He was firm in his order, but there was a tiny hint of righteous fury in the word fire, a snap in his voice. He wanted those commandos dead and he wanted them dead now!

"Aye sir." Came the eventual reply. It seemed Talon did not yet have the unquestioning obedience of all men but his order, now understood, was carried out.

Two mighty turrets span and poured their best into their targets. Their shots seemed to ring louder now they were firing on their own ship and the Resolve juddered and rocked under the impact. Jan, ignorant of the most recent events, wondered what could possibly be going on above. Unfortunately for the Resolve the turrets were still operating on reduced power and the outer hull of the ship was built to try and absorb shots like this even without shields. As a result, the tower stubbornly refused to collapse but some damage was done. The bridge itself, already half open to the elements due to the crash, was filled with a whirling torrent of explosions, fire and cacophonous laser shots. The air heated to such a temperature that bare flesh would roast and melt even without sustaining a direct hit.

Meanwhile, in the turbolift shaft, debris feel like rain, striking commandos at random in some cruel lottery. However, very few shots penetrated the shafts themselves. Talon had no idea how many men his little barrage had killed but he would wager it was not enough. The bridge for its part, was now a total wreck, engulfed in flame it sent a great pillar of black smoke into the sky visible for miles around. The thought of it played in Talon's mind, it was a demoralising thought, but he would not allow it to distract him from the matters at hand. Ordering his guns to fall silent after just under a minute of fire he readied for the commando’s next move.

The problem was they could strike at almost any level from where they were, and he just didn't have enough men to defend every door to the turbo lifts. True, there were three or four places that they were most likely to strike but still, it would be a drain on manpower. As it turned out they struck at the most predictable point, engineering. But whilst the attack may have been predictable its speed was not. The pounding they had just taken didn't even seem to slow the commando's down, they were on their next target within three minutes. A desperate call from one of the engineers made it clear which way the battle was going.

"Sir! Commando's in engineering! At least three dozen, maybe more! We cannot hold them! If they get to the core..." Talon didn't need to hear the end of that message. He knew full well what could happen if the reactor fell to the enemy.

Abandoning the old Commander's stance for a moment he pointed dramatically at one of his subordinates with a gloved hand.

"Order Jan and some of his reinforcements to engineering. Brief them en route!" The order was carried out and Jan swiftly obeyed. The Major also knew how bad it could be if the enemy seized engineering and so he tore towards the foe as if hell were at his heels. He had a mere two dozen troopers behind him. There were other stormtroopers about the ship of course, but he did not want to pull any of them back from their posts. So, to make up the numbers, every time he passed other crew men he ordered them to follow him. This added another three dozen to his number, but these hands were not storm troopers. They were engineers, gunners, fire crew, cooks, comms officers and the like. Still, he was in no position to be fussy. When they arrived at engineering they had no idea what the situation would be. There had been no word since the last message and the cameras had all gone down, either as a result of the crash or enemy action.

Hovering outside of the blast door Jan silently gestured some of his troopers forward. He thought about sending some of the less skilled men instead, he knew the first men through that door would die. But he could not bring himself to do it. After all the stormtroopers aboard this ship were originally placed here to protect the crew and repel boarders. What sort of protector would he be if he just threw his wards to the ravenous nexu at the first sign of trouble? So, after moment's hesitation, he gestured his troops to go through the door. Stormtrooper training shone through, no sooner had the door began to peek open than thermal detonators and concussion grenades came sailing through the gap. The cacophony was immense and gave the Rebel swine a taste of their own medicine! When the door slid fully open troopers burst through without waiting to see what was beyond. They were just running and shooting at anything that looked even vaguely threatening, each one of them making for the closest possible cover. The scene in engineering was one of utter devastation. Smoke was starting to fill the room as several consoles and machines were already on fire as a result of the fight that had taken place previously. The fire suppressant foam had not properly deployed and was spurting haphazardly from a single sprinkler in the ceiling. Bodies, chiefly Imperial, were scattered across the floor and the screams of the wounded and dying filled the air. One Republic commando lay in full view, writhing on the ground, clutching with both hands at a leg that just was not there anymore. Another was staggering around, hands up to his face, blood seeping through his fingers making a sound more like a dying bantha than a man. From the noise there were a few other similar injuries among the enemy. But battered though they may have been, beaten they were not.

Jan was right, a hail of blaster fire greeted the first soldier through the door, sending him limp to the floor before he got three paces in. The second man went down after five paces and the third after seven. Each one hit the ground with that odd clatter only the plasteel of stormtrooper armour could make. The fourth man however, got to cover and began laying down some fire, as did the fifth. They had their foot in the door, but the situation was still not in their favour. Towards the back of the room, through a blast proof screen, Jan thought he could make out some commandos fretting over an odd device. It looked like a big black box with antenna which had been placed atop one of the main engineering command consoles. He couldn't get a clear shot but thought it best to radio it in to Talon.

Talon however, was equally confused and turned to his improvised command team for advice. They all looked puzzled for a moment, brows furrowed deep in thought until one of them had a slow epiphany.

"I might be wrong." He said, uncertainly and with caution in his voice. "But from the description it seems like a repair tool I've seen the tech boys use."

"What sort of repair tool?" Asked Talon in altogether more rushed and urgent tones, eager for a response.

"Well." Responded the man slowly, clearly not having picked up on Talon's need for speed. "If a droid or machine isn't responding to commands properly, they can try wiring on this box. Then an operator somewhere else can take control of the system from somewhere else. It's supposed to have all sorts of gizmos that get past malfunctioning circuits or software that stop the machine properly taking commands." If this box did indeed serve the same general purpose then it was clear to Talon what the intent of the commandos was.

"Jan, they are trying to pass control of ship's systems to a remote location!" Declared Talon down the communicator, urgency and even worry now evident in his tone. "I don't know what systems, but we must assume the worst. Break that box!"

"Aye sir!" Came Jan's reply. Again, this was not an order he was inclined to disobey. If that device did what Jan thought it did then it needed to go, fast. But how to get there? There was no high ground to seize, no flanks to go around. This was a straight face to face fight against some of the Republic's best. The odds were not in their favour, but the dice had to be rolled.

Turning behind him, to some of the regular crewmen he bellowed over the gunfire.

"Rip some panelling off the walls, pick up debris, anything that's solid. Make improvised shields. Do it!" Then pointing to the next six troopers he waved them on declaring. "Get in there and back them up you nerf herders!" The six soldiers did not need to be told twice. They burst out, all heading for cover, another two grenades supporting their advance. Unfortunately, but predictably, Jan’s men suffered two further casualties. One of them was hit in the head, his helmet shattering seemingly in slow motion as the side of his skull was simply blown away. Oddly, it was not the gore that was the worst but the sound. The squealing hiss of tearing plasteel. After all these years that noise still got to Jan. He tried to shrug it off, but he never quite could. Still, he focused on the positives, four men got to good cover.

One of them got to a piece of rubble which sheltered a Rebel Commando squatting on the other side. The traitor poked his gun up over the lip of the cover to blast fire into the storm trooper but the trooper turned the tides on his enemy. Grabbing the muzzle of the blaster he yanked on it hard. His foe kept his grip on his gun and as a result he was pulled up out of the cover. The commando swung with his free hand. Smashing into the side of the trooper’s head. But punching armour was never that effective. The trooper however twisted the commando's gun arm and then smashed down on his elbow with his own free hand. The snap was quiet, almost silent, compared to the blasts and screams all around. But to the two men involved it was the loudest thing in the world. With his arm broken the enemy was in no position to stop the trooper as he tore away the commando's gun and turned it on its former owner, planting a single shot squarely between the eyes. Jan had to admit, that was a fine display and worth a congratulatory drink after this was all over.

After another two minutes of men taking pot shots at one another several of the crewmen had finished their improvised shields. They were made to be so tall they could cover a whole man, head to toe. Some of them were perhaps a tad flimsy but Jan had to work with what he had. Turning to the men behind him Jan gave clear and firm commands.

"All right, huddle up tight behind those shields, keep low and push forward. I want you to move up to the troopers and stop. Form a wall. Shield bearers. Behind you will be a second man with a gun. I want you all to lay suppressing fire above the wall, just stick your guns up and pull the trigger. If the man in front of you dies pick up his shield at once and join the wall. Do not hesitate, do not stop moving. Now go!" As the first few men went out Jan bellowed. "Cover fire!" As one man each trooper already in the room upped his fire rate. No longer aiming to kill but just to keep the heads of the enemy down whilst the crew men were exposed for a few seconds. Their efforts were commendable but not entirely successful.

After all, these were well trained commandos, they were not easily intimidated or suppressed, and their aim was true. One blaster bolt tore through a weak point in the shield, putting a neat glowing hole in the metal. However, the hole it put through the crewman's leg was anything but neat. With a sharp shriek the man went down, unable to support his own weight. Face down on the ground, writhing in pain and clutching at the gap in his leg the man made an easy target. A small flurry of shots put him out of his misery, his body now twisted, torn and still. The second man hesitated, shuffled back slightly and looked behind him as if to ask what to do. He had a look of fear and confusion on his face, one that said help. But all of a sudden it was replaced by a look of total surprise. Not pain, sadness, or anger. Just, total surprise. That look stayed on his face all the way to the floor. He did not even try to grab at his wound, he was already dead.

Jan knew men, he knew how easily moral could rise and fall, how quickly panic and uncertainty could spread among ill trained troops. He had no doubt that in a ship to ship battle these men would be some of the most stalwart people around whilst his troopers would flap about. But now, well he needed to take control. Pouring fire into the gap that had emerged in the now hesitant line Jan dashed forward, head down low as the hiss and crack of shots sounded about him. He got to the fallen shield in the nick time and hauling it up with a single hand just before a blaster bolt that would have hit him square in the chest reached him. Instead, the shot hit the metal, causing it to shudder and shake violently, but it held. Still though, the advance had stalled. Waving some of his troopers forward and two crewmen he forced one crewman to take his place behind the shield and the other to take up a reserve position in line with the original plan.

"Now get moving you useless dogs!" Jan's tone left no room for doubt and hesitantly the shield wall started to creep forward once more, the other troopers Jan had called up were helping to steady the line, offering instructions and reassurance, pushing men on as they wavered and lending the odd expert shot when it was needed. The crack of blaster fire, the thundering boom of grenades, the smell of blood and the sound of screams would have been enough to break the wall mere moments ago. But now, with some hardened troopers behind the line pushing them on, the men's hearts grew firm and their resolve strengthened.

After a while they were within 15 meters of the box, which was unfortunately hidden behind an extremely durable shock glass command display. It would take a small cannon to punch through that stuff, so they had to get around the console to reach the box. So be it. There was only one thing left to do now. It would be brutal, bloody, and messy in extremis, but it was necessary. "Come on you wretches, just a few more meters." Slowly but surely, they got to within ten meters of the box whereupon Jan simply called out "Grenades out!" At this point every man with a grenade of any shape or size threw the devices over the shield wall and into the last hold outs of the Republican Commandos. The resultant blast was a deafening cacophony of discordant booms and devastating blasts. Incendiary grenades, stun grenades, thermal detonators, fragmentation grenades, the works, all went into a jumble of destruction. The troopers were relatively unaffected, the helmets protected them from both the flashes and the bangs, and the shields protected the crewmen from the worst of the bright lights, but the wall of noise was still disorientating. No matter, the troopers were fit and ready for what had to come next.

They did not need a command, they knew exactly what to do. As one man the surviving troopers burst through the shields and pored through the smoke and flames in a flurry of blaster fire. Their aim was to get close, gun their way through the first line of Republic commandos and charge headlong into the rest. Just as the rebel scum was starting to bring themselves round from the grenade blasts, they would find white clad fury descending upon them, all fire and fists. The crewmen, in a surprising act of bravery, followed the troopers in, casting aside their shields and descending upon the foe with a zealotry to match, even surpass the troopers.

The ensuing melee seemed to last an eternity. Every moment dragged out into forever. The barrage of grenades had inflicted heavy losses on the Rebels. This, combined with their initial daze, at last gave the Imperials the edge they so desperately needed. True, these commandos had superior close combat training when compared to even the troopers, but this was not the fist fight of the drill yard or the brawl of some dive bar. This was the desperate, bloody struggle for simple survival up close and personal and no amount of training quite prepares a man for it. Most of the commandos practice seemed to slip away as they descended into the same, desperate, primal fighting as the Imperials. Those who did not were men like Jan, people who had several real battles under their belts but unfortunately for them Jan could spot veterans like himself a mile off and they were his targets.

Jan had been punched to the ground by just such a man, but Jan had managed to kick the legs out from under his attacker and the two men both laid sprawled on the cold metal floor, rolling atop of one another in a desperate struggle for the advantage. It was imperial equipment that was to decide the day. The full-face helmet of the stormtrooper sometimes had its disadvantages. But now Jan used it to gain the upper hand. Head but after head but into the less armoured commando were barely felt by Jan. But it only took one or two blows to daze the commando, another three or four to knock him unconscious. A simple blaster shot from Jan fished it off after the man was no longer in any position to resist.

Looking about him Jan surveyed the mad brawl, though the Imperials had the numbers the Rebels had the skill and so no winner was as yet emerging. Spying one commando raise a knife into the air, about to stab an engineer who lay helpless on the ground, Jan quickly fired, as if by reflex. Wordlessly the commando fell to the side, limply, whilst the engineer surged up and re-joined the fray. Turning swiftly Jan sent a shot square into the a chest of a man who was surging at him. Suddenly Fan felt himself being slammed, face first into the ground by some unseen foe who had landed bodily upon him from behind. Sprawling inelegantly across the cold steel floor Jan could feel the weight of a man straddling his back. But more concerning, he could sense the hands on the side of his head, trying to get purchase and readying to twist sharply, ending it all. The smooth, sloping surfaces of a storm trooper helmet made the task hard, but by no means impossible. Twisting and writhing Jan struggled fiercely to shake his attacker off, but he couldn't quite make it happen. Every time he came close the man's weight would shift and come bearing down on Jan once again. Even Jan, the seasoned veteran, could feel his heart racing, the adrenaline and even fear surging through his body. This could be it, if something did not happen in the space of about five seconds, he would be dead. As the realisation hit him his tossing, turning and bucking seemed to grow in strength and intensity, but it still was not enough.

Then, all of a sudden, the weight on top of him went limp, he could feel the man's body fall lazily upon him. But before Jan could even rise to his feet a bloody hand grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him up. Looking into the smeared and sweaty face of his saviour Jan saw the engineer that he had rescued mere seconds ago. There was no time for words of thanks, there was bloody business still to be done. An affirming pat on the shoulder and Jan was back at it. But now the tide was turning in favour of the Imperials. Their numbers were counting and soon the commandos were being forced to deal with two or three attackers at a time and that was beyond even their training. Whilst one man might be laid low by the rebel filth, a second would pin the commando down and a third would finish him off. Jan meanwhile, was making a beeline for that control box. Who knows what havoc the foe could wreak if they took control of the ships systems even briefly?

One resolute commando was still standing by the box, back to the wall, gunning down all comers and remaining surprisingly calm given the truly dire situation he was in. Anyone could have seen that this man was not leaving this room alive. But there he stood, the last of his unit, still fighting. Had Jan seen that kind of display from one of his own troopers then he would have respected it, even admired it. But from a rebel he saw it only as the frenzied mad biting of a rabid and doomed dog. Perhaps one day he would realise the fundamental inequality of such a view, but not today. Instead, he rammed forward, shoulder charging the man, staggering him but in a testament to the rebel's resoluteness, not knocking him prone. But a stagger was all Jan needed. Keeping up the momentum Jan rose up, punching and kicking with armoured fists and boots. Caught unaware, the commando was desperately trying to block or lessen the impacts, but all to no avail. Eventually the sheer number of blows rendered him sluggish and dazed. Giving Jan all the opportunity he needed to pick up a length of twisted pipe, blown lose in one of the many explosions that had happened in this room, and finish off the man with a single stout blow to the head.

Looking about Jan could see that the battle had been won, and one of the engineers was already working on removing the control box. Wasting no time Jan raised his communicator and reported their success to Talon.

"Well done Major." Came Talon's curt but genuinely appreciative reply. "What is the battle effectiveness of the reserve?"

"We have taken a pounding. Slightly over half of the troopers in the reserve are dead or wounded. These commandos really knew their business." Jan even sounded a little tired as he said it, catching his breath and beginning to pant slightly as the adrenaline wore off.

"Tend to your wounded Major, but I want what men can still fight to reform and return to your staging position. A reduced reserve is better than no reserve at all." Jan could not argue with that, but looking about him, at the men who were twisting and crawling, clutching and wounds and crying out for help, or worse at those that did not move at all, he couldn't help but feel a little hesitant. Jan was about to reply when Talon spoke up again. "You and your men have my compliments Major, make sure to tell them that. But I need you back in position."

Jan did not quite know how to deal with that, other than to wait for a few moments before saying. "Yes sir!" With a surprising snap, even zeal in his voice. Then turning around to his troopers he called out. "Listen here men. Our Lieutenant Commander send his compliments, but the job is not done yet. If you can still walk staunch the bleeding of those who can't and then come with me! The battle's not over yet." It was not long until he and those of his men who were still able, were jogging down the cluttered corridors of the Resolve once more. Soon battle would begin again.

Little did they know just how soon. But in that brief interlude Talon found himself wrestling with an ethical problem. Casting his gaze to the cold steel deck beneath him he mulled on his prisoners. He could threaten their lives to try and stave off another attack, but such a threat would ring empty and meaningless. If Talon was not going to execute a hostage now, then he never would. So, the question was, should he execute one? By executing only one prisoner he might be able to stave off an attack for several hours, giving him and his men more time to prepare and saving Imperial lives. But, by executing such a man he would be breaking his word as an officer, ignoring the rules of war, betraying the very values the Empire stood for, or he believed they stood for. But how could he justify sparing on Rebel life at the cost of who knows how many of his own crew?

This mental back and forth lasted for some minutes, until eventually his hand began to drift towards his blaster. It was only when his gloved fingers started to wrap around the grip of his weapon that he realised how insane he was being. His fingers seemed to recoil from the weapon reflexively, as if it were scorching hot. His face grew even paler than it usually was and he felt horrified, even disgusted, at his own thoughts for a few moments. How had he come that close to committing what would have been a war crime? He would have to guard himself against this sort of behaviour in the future. But now he suddenly found himself understanding how those kinds of things could happen so easily on the battlefield, just how tempting it was to start executing prisoners for the sake of your own men, just how right it could sound in your own head. A little bit of him had just become a little bit more sympathetic, a little bit more understanding to all those accused of such brutality.

Clearing his throat with a cough, as if to return his focus to the issues at hand, he resumed his stance with his hands clasped firmly behind his back, trying to put his recent thoughts out of his mind. The next attack came swiftly, with the failure of the commando raid the New Republic troops were wasting no time. Yet more of those giant ten wheeled attack tanks crested the hill and came tearing towards the same old breach. It appeared the commandos were not the only reinforcements the Republic troops had received. But now, with the nearby turbo laser destroyed, there was nothing to stop them crossing the open ground which was so pivotal to the Resolve's defence. Worse still X wings and now Y wings swooped down from on high. A flurry of laser fire and torpedoes streamed down from the heavens and whilst the turbo lasers did their best to clear the skies they were of little effect. It seemed as though that for ever lance of Imperial green that tore into the heavens, ten bolts of Rebel red came streaming right back. The enemy were coming in greater numbers now and with more confidence. Similarly, the point defence guns span furiously on their axels, blasting torpedo after torpedo from the air. But too many had been lost and too many craft were now attacking. The Resolve shock violently again and again as hit after hit struck home. Talon could hear the echo of screeching metal coming down the corridors as bulkheads gave way and sections collapsed, trapping or killing who knew how many crew.

Meanwhile, the New Republic troops reached the breach swiftly, the attack tanks driving back any defenders with shot after shot from their enormous cannons. No man, armoured or not, could survive in that fire storm for long and so the Imperial troops were once more forced to withdraw, with corridor to corridor fighting now an inevitability. Boyed by their success the Rebel infantry charged forth from their great transports and poured headlong into the Imperial positions. What awaited them was a hail of blaster fire from foes crouched behind improvised barricades. Rebel casualties were staggering, when one man went down, another stepped over his body only to be sent sprawling to the ground himself. The Rebels were open and vulnerable, in a confined space, with no room to manoeuvre. Whilst the Imperials were there, waiting. A cacophony of screams, coughs and blaster fire began to fill the air. But the Rebel numbers threatened to count, and their spirit never seemed to waver in the face of such high casualties in a remarkable display of bravery. Every now and again they would get off a lucky blaster shot, or a grenade would come hurtling out of the smoke and into the waiting Imperials and then the crew of the Resolve would be forced to roll one intersection back, leaving behind too many Imperial bodies for their liking.

With every intersection that was lost the Rebels opened up new avenues of attack. Suddenly the men of the Resolve found themselves being attacked from multiple directions, in ever increasing numbers. Every now and again some Imperials would not be updated as to the collapse of an adjacent position, meaning the Rebels could get around behind the stalwart defenders and finish them off with an almost insulting ease. Still, the men of the Resolve fought on, like daemons and the Rebels were still taking obscene casualties, seemingly oblivious as to their losses. As the men of the Resolve retreated, they primed grenades in vents, set plasma pipes to rupture or set down other traps. Every time the Rebels took a position it would seem to promptly explode in a hail of spinning metal and white-hot fire. But still the Rebels just kept on taking ground. The Imperials could have killed thirty or forty men for every one of their own lost and it still would not have made a difference.

By now Jan and his reserve were back in the fray. Desperately trying to hold on to every inch of the corridors, pouring fire wildly down the narrow shafts into the clouds of smoke and steam. Almost every shot hit home, aiming was no longer important, the foe was packed so tightly that you were always bound to hit something. The thumps of unseen bodies hitting the floor was like the pitter patter at the start of a rainstorm. But every time the Rebel dogs seemed to hesitate and stall a great cheer would erupt from somewhere behind them and on they would surge once more, charging out of the smoke. Jan could see the way this was going, and it was not going well. But he would neither surrender to fate nor to Rebel scum. And so, on he fought, sliding slowly back, step by step, inch by inch, but always firing, always firing.

Meanwhile, back in Talon's improvised control room the Lieutenant Commander was listening to the reports of intersection after intersection falling. A blueprint of the ship had been pinned up to the wall and little red flags were being put into every point the Rebels held, and the map was far too Red for his liking. It had been roughly an hour now since the Rebels began to swarm into his ship like rats, slowly crawling forward, corridor by corridor, minute by minute. By now he could hear the gun fire less than a dozen corridors away from the room in which he now stood. He had to do something, he could not just stand here and let control of the ship be wrested from him. His brow creased, his hands tightened into painful little balls behind him, desperate frustration started to build. Suddenly, inspiration hit him, an idea! It was a desperate plan, but it was a desperate situation and it was a damn site better than just trying to hold ground. Deciding to exploit the eagerness of the Republic troops to keep pressing ahead at every turn he spotted an opportunity to lure them into a trap.

Stepping with an odd enthusiasm to the blueprint he slammed an almost triumphant finger into it.

"Order the troops from intersection 17 C to fall back seven intersections!"

"Seven intersections!" Came an incredulous cry from one of his staff. "That's only two intersections from here!" Spinning on his heel Talon had fire in his eyes, but it was not the fire of fury directed at his crewman. Instead, it was the odd burning of a man with a mad, brilliant plan, conviction and the drive to see it through. The ever-calm appearance of the Commander that Talon had so far been emulating appeared to have dropped away, if only for a moment.

Taking a step towards his officer Talon explained in tones to match his eyes.

"Yes it is! Those Rebels will not be able to resist it. They will think they have us on the run and surge into the gap, making a beeline right for us. But when they run into a well-prepared position, and their advance stalls." He span back around to the map, gesturing at the adjacent corridors. "They will have advanced too far, their flanks will be unsupported. The Major can lead a dozen men behind the foe and then…" Snapping his fingers Talon wordlessly described the Rebel's fate. After a few moments of reflection on the plan Talon said more quietly, almost to himself. "It doesn't matter how many people they throw into that trap. They will not be able to punch their way back out." Before finishing by declaring. "Relay the order!" In the firm, authoritative tones of a man who knew he was right. Even if the people around him were not entirely inclined to agree.

The men given the fall-back order were only too happy to comply, they were being faced by a seemingly never ending, never tiring horde to whom losses meant nothing. Laying down what fire they could the word

"Retreat!" was bellowed out and suddenly they began to run hell for leather back down the corridor, ducking and weaving as best they could, blaster shots all around. Running suddenly, less because they were ordered to and now running for their lives. Meanwhile, another deafening cheer went up from the Rebels, a cheer that was made up of far too many voices for comfort.

"Come on boys! They're breaking!" Came one voice from the Rebel throng and suddenly, as a man, they charged, woops and yells of triumph echoing all the way down the corridor as they went, boots thundering, their spirits high.

Meanwhile, Jan, and a dozen of his best, were huddled waiting for the moment to go. It was a bold plan, perhaps even a slightly mad one but Jan had to admit, only mad plans could save them now. But he was still apprehensive, a little knot in his gut had built up and he felt both cold and hot simultaneously. Even the hardest of veterans never quite drove out fear from their hearts. They simply learn to supress it better, and how to manage it when suppression fails. Concentrating on his breathing, and keeping his hand steady he stayed oddly still and utterly quiet until he heard all hell break lose.

The sound of rapid blaster fire, grenades, light blaster cannons and a cacophony of other weapons and explosions suddenly erupted from down the corridor. The men at section 17 C had turned around after their retreat and joined the men already defending the new and well-prepared intersection. Their combined fire was supposed to stop the foe dead in their tracks and the sound of cries and screams certainly hinted at their effectiveness. But another cry of

"Hurrah!" From far, far too many voices indicated that the Rebels had not quite come to a halt.  
"Go, go go!" Barked out Jan as he and his men dashed forward, keeping their heads low, and erupting from an intersection behind the careless Rebel advance.

From where they were they could see the outlines of dozens upon dozens of Rebel dogs, all crammed tight into the corridor like sardines in a can. "Hit the deck" barked out Jan and as a man, he and his troops dove to the ground and began firing wildly into the rear of the Rebels. To say it was like shooting fish in a barrel was an insult to fish. It was like shooting fish in a barrel that was crammed full of only fish. If you sat and thought about it for more than just a few moments it was a harrowing affair. Men and women were dying in droves, several lives were being snuffed out each second. Every one of them a complete person, with friends, family, people who would miss them, people who needed them. But not only had Jan long since learned to stop thinking about Rebels that way. But any man in this desperate struggle for survival would instinctively reduce the foe to something less than human. The enemy were shapes, numbers, guns, nothing more.

Attacked from both the front and the rear the Rebels had little idea what to do. Some tried to run forwards, some tried to run back, others tried to stand and shoot. But all three options were of little effect. No matter what they did the blaster fire simply did not stop coming. Shot after shot kept pouring into the corridor, the stream of fire seemed constant until Jan noticed something strange, something had changed in the corridor.

"Cease fire!" He bellowed out and after a few moments everything fell still.

Soon the smoke began to clear and what had changed was obvious. The corridor was carpeted with enemy dead, occasionally something would shift on the floor as a wounded man tried to somehow crawl to safety. Groans and gasps drifted up, punctuated by the coughs and splutters of the dying. But Jan had no time to reflect on the carnage before him, even though he could see several of the crewmen at the other end of the corridor had pale faces and appalled expressions, uncomprehending of the devastation they had wrought.

"Follow me!" He declared, and started running back up the corridor to the original intersection, a few of the less phased crewmen following him along with his level headed troopers. Those few Rebels that had gathered there did not expect to see a dozen storm troopers, with various supporting engineers and crew, pouring back up the corridor in a hail of blaster fire. So stunned were they at the idea of an Imperial counterattack in the face of what seemed like certain defeat, that the moral of the Rebels just collapsed, causing them to run hell for leather, rather than facing the obviously insane foe.

Indeed, when it became clear that the main thrust of their attack had failed the great cries of victory and jubilation from the Rebels throughout the ship appeared to fade into silence, and eventually into concerned mutterings. Taking advantage of this nervousness and hesitation Imperial troops began counter attacking throughout the ship. It was not enough to force the Rebels out of the smashed hull of the Resolve entirely, but it was enough to push them all back a few intersections until the two sides settled down into a tense stalemate, each waiting for the other to make some form of mistake. A few corridors worth of no man's land was all that separated the two opposing forces. Occasionally a blaster shot would ring out as a nervous man took a pot shot at a strange movement or a lurking shadow. But neither force was making a move.

But the battle seemed far from over. Talon's daring move had bought them time, but nothing more. Who knew how many more enemy troops lay out there? Who knew how they would attempt to attack again whilst his own forces were starting to look dangerously thin. It was whilst Talon was bent double over a map, pondering this very problem, that a strange smile spread across his face. A little chuckle even managed to escape his lips. The idea had just occurred to him that his first, and quite possibly last, command of a spaceship was of a vessel that never even got off of the ground! Glancing around he saw one of his crewman looking at him strangely, and Talon suddenly realised just how odd this must have looked to an outside viewer. Swiftly regaining his composure Talon stood up and placed both hands behind his back once more. A stern cough and the words.

"Carry on crewman." Signalled that this little event was over, and never to be spoken of again. But when he thought no one was looking, a ghost of a grin spread across his face once more. A little bit of humour in the face of death never hurt.

Returning to his musings two hours must have readily gone by. Two tense hours, punctuated by status updates and copious amounts of caffa. Talon's nerves and brain may not have needed sharpening, but his many sleepless hours were starting to count. Part of him wanted to take a brief nap in the corner of the room, but he could not let himself rest just yet. Not when Rebels were still inside his ship, even if they had gone quiet for now.

It was whilst he was musing on a plan to launch a counterattack in what remained of the nose of the ship, that events pre-empted his designs.

"Sir! Enemy fighter cover is peeling off." Came the voice of one of his crewman, who was obviously unsure as to whether he should be happy or concerned. Similarly confused Talon walked over to the monitor, to confirm it with his own eyes. It was certainly true. X wing and Y wing alike was climbing for the sky. Then another, even more baffling report came in.

"Sir, the Rebels. They are pulling back sir!" This time the voice was a tad more enthusiastic, heading towards jubilant.

"Where?" Probed Talon, with the slow air of a man who sensed a trap he did not yet understand.

"Everywhere sir! Right along the line!"

Still confused Talon pulled his communicator up to his mouth and hailed Jan.

"Major, I am receiving reports of a general retreat. Can you confirm?" After a few moments Jan's voice floated back, as gruff as ever but as obviously unsure as Talon's.

"Confirmed sir. They are all retreating. Shall we pursue?" The query about pursuit really was said as more of a query than a suggestion. The situation was so odd Jan did not quite know how to react and nor did Talon. But whilst Jan seemed to lean towards taking quick advantage of the situation Talon still feared an ambush.

"No, hold your positions Major. I want more information before I order an advance." Flicking off his communicator the Lieutenant Commander's face twisted into an obvious look of total bafflement and confusion. He would not have to wait long through for clarification.

A few minutes later several booms could be heard of ships entering the atmosphere, then several more, then more still. His heart began to sink in his chest. Despite their prisoners it seemed as though the Rebels were committing a huge number of ships to a great bombing run on the broken and shattered Resolve. Even the remains of her once mighty hull were stretched to breaking, and would likely do little now to stop a sustained shelling. He had to admit though. He was surprised that Commander Aries would sanction such a strike, after he seemed so determined to recapture his lost men. Perhaps his most recent failed offensive had persuaded him that it was not worth the cost. Perhaps he had fallen to a temptation not so dissimilar to the one that had so recently nagged at Talon.

Talon could not have been more wrong. Soon the sweetest sound in all the galaxy graced his ears, reverberating down the corridors of the twisted ship. It was an echoing, artificial, metallic wail that seemed to go on forever, screaming into the sky. It was like the death cry of a robotic banshee mixed with the long-forgotten war shouts of a dead warrior race. It was the shriek, of a TIE fighter. But not just one TIE fighter, dozens of them. Soon the distinctive sound of their laser cannons could be herd thundering outside and consulting his external monitors Talon could see TIE bombers strafing the New Republic position behind the crest of the hill. All around him his hastily assembled command crew exploded into jubilation. Some men were jumping up and down on the spot, others pumping their fists into the air, some embracing one another. But they were all cheering, cheering in victory, cheering in relief, cheering at the idea they might live to see tomorrow, just cheering!

Talon meanwhile took a moment to remove his hat and lean forward heavily on to the desk, sighing in relief and exhaustion. He wiped the sweat from his brow before looking up with a smile at his crew, half chuckling to himself out of nervous joy. Replacing his cap the man proceeded to shake the hands of his jubilant staff. Hardy shakes, pats on the back and words such as "Well done." Were exchanged before the Lieutenant Commander strode out into the halls in search of Jan, who was even now retaking the last parts of the ship. Seemingly the Major of the storm troopers had not thought it necessary to seek Talon's approval for a counterattack once he knew the TIEs were overhead. Fortunately, the Rebels had entirely cleared out in what must have been an attempt to evacuate before they were cut off. A failed attempt judging by the smoke rising from behind the ridge.

After treading over far too many corpses, both Rebel and Imperial, for comfort Talon finally found his troublesome trooper. Jan looked about as bad as Talon. His armour was scuffed, laced in mild burn marks, smattered in blood, a few cracks had appeared in the surface of the white plasteel from where it had been hit just a little too hard. Talon meanwhile, looked somewhat dirty and worn and more importantly, appeared as though he had not slept in a month. But still, the Lieutenant Commander managed to maintain his ridged and upright posture, even keeping up his slightly curt tones which just screamed officer class.

"Well done Major." Declared Talon with a slight nod of the head. Before adding in a slightly less formal voice. "Bloody well done as a matter of fact." Jan turned to look down at his commanding officer before looking forward once more, out of the open side of the ship.

"We're not all dead. That's something I suppose." Jan's words sounded almost dismissive, certainly a tad belittling. A man would have had to look awfully hard for even a bit of grudging respect.

Had Talon not been overwhelmed with relief and satisfaction at their oncoming rescue he might have snapped at Jan for that. Truth be told Talon thought he had done a good job, and even if he had not it was most certainly not the place of a junior officer to be so overtly rude or dismissive. But for the next few hours those kinds of little slights simply were not reaching Talon's ears. Jan however continued.

"Next time you send my men into the freezing cold, give them something a little more than warm wishes." You could hear a hint of venom still in Jan's tone. He was still annoyed at the idea Talon had taken such a huge risk in sending unprepared men out into arctic temperatures, even though it had paid off. But whilst he was still obviously agitated, he seemed to be a little less so than before.

Talon meanwhile played the comment off by retorting.

"I'll buy them all fur coats when we get home." His tone was not hostile, but it was a little snide, only the diminutive smile at the corner of his mouth showed there was no real hostility in what he was saying. Jan could not help but snort a little at that idea, half out of actual amusement and half out of derision. Talon chose to focus on the good half. "We are alive Major." Stated Talon, evenly and in an understated fashion that only seemed to grant more weight to his words. Jan's reply was similarly restrained.

"Yes sir, yes we are." 


	10. The End of the Resolve

It was not long until the last tattered remains of Rebel resistance were either bombed into oblivion, or blasted into surrender. From their vantage point in the torn side of the once mighty Resolve Talon and Jan could see Rebel soldiers cresting the low hill, hands above their heads, some waving white flags. Doubtless others had fled into the rolling heights away from the ship, to continue the fight but much of their remaining strength was delivering themselves into Imperial hands. Lani had been dispatched to round up the prisoners along with the scout troopers but it was not long until Talon followed.

It was a bold move. Any one of these new prisoners could be carrying a concealed weapon and there were a lot of them, easily over a hundred men. Furthermore, the Rebellion had proven itself as not being above cheap tricks and dirty tactics to get their way, the odds of one fanatic with a grenade surging forward were worryingly high. But protocol, and perhaps Talon's ego, demanded that a surrender such as this be accepted by the commanding officer. Striding across the frozen waste, forcing back the cold by sheer force of will, Talon was the very image of an Imperial officer. He had taken a moment to wipe the worst of the grime from him and now, posture upright, hands behind his back, chin slightly raised, he was every inch the stereotype.

Looking over his newest wards Talon could not help but feel a little sympathy. Poking out from behind their cold weather gear he could see tired faces and worn eyes. These men looked beaten and downcast, as if a little bit of their soul had been ripped out. What surprised him most though was how quiet they were. He was expecting the groans of more wounded, cries of protest, sobbing, commotion. Instead, silence. It was as if they just did not have the energy to even be upset any more. This was partly true, but every one of them was lost in their own heads as well. Thinking on what would happen next, on the consequences of being taken prisoner. Some were envisaging the horror stories of torture and of being worked to death in sulphur choked mines. Others were thinking of friends and family they would not see now for years, if at all. Others were dwelling on how long their captivity might last, of how old they would be once they were at last released.

It was not just pride, or his innate sense of duty, that had prevented Talon from surrendering. It was to avoid seeing those expressions on the faces of his own men, to spare them this terrible moment of introspection and the hard life that would follow it. Perhaps a selfish desire to spare himself this unpleasantness had been a factor as well. Many of these men may have been no better than terrorists once, and he still believed in the fundamental illegitimacy of their cause and their government. But these men were professional soldiers now and as such Talon could not help but feel a degree of sympathy.

Casting his eye about Talon spied one older man push himself up to his feet and almost limp over to him, keen to spare a wounded man any discomfort Talon wasted no time in striding over and saving this man the trip. What happened next surprised Talon, rather than first shaking this man's hand the Lieutenant Commander was suddenly presented with a sharp salute. Despite his limp, and slightly lopsided stance as his body tried to compensate for his obviously damaged leg, this surrendering soldier still had a sense of dignity and professionalism about him, Talon could see in his eye how desperately he was clinging on to it. Talon smartly returned the salute with a parade ground snap before removing a glove, even in the freezing conditions, and shaking his opposite number's hand.

"Lieutenant Commander Talon Rake, officer commanding the Resolve."

"Major Rizvi Hallarn. 114th Armoured Infantry. Officer commanding after the death of my superiors. I hereby surrender myself and my men into your custody." The whole thing was said with an odd, formal detachment. It was a coping mechanism Talon knew all too well, but he could see the man was on the edge of cracking and Talon could scarcely blame him for that. Talon’s reply was just as formal, but it carried a conciliatory note as well.

"I hereby accept your surrender. You and your men will be searched for weapons and then invited into the Resolve to take shelter. If possible, we will also see to your wounds." A silent nod from the Major signalled his understanding and soon the prisoners began filling into the ship, Lani and the scouts keeping a watchful eye over the throng. Replacing his glove Talon fell in alongside the Major, walking with him to the broken Resolve. The pair walked in a heavy silence for some time, neither one of them able to find a suitable topic of conversation for what seemed like an eternity. This was not an occasion for small talk. Talon barely even felt able to look this obvious veteran in the eye.

It was the Major, who now had little to lose, that eventually broke the silence.

"You're very young." He commented, almost idly.

"Pardon?" Came the undeniably youthful Talon's reply. Surprised that this was the topic which came up.

"You're very young." The Major repeated with a little sigh. "You are very young to be a Lieutenant Commander." He added, with a tone reminiscent of a tired adult explaining a basic concept to a child for the 12th time, all laced with the sadness of his position.

"It's a field promotion." Said Talon heavily. "The old Lieutenant Commander died and the Commander is incapacitated." Then after a loaded pause he added evenly. "Both good men. Fine officers." The prisoner nodded his understanding at that sentiment, having lost far too many good men himself over the years he knew it well.

But he repeated his original observation.  
"You are still very young though. Was there no one senior? Even for a junior officer... you can't be that long out of the academy!" He sounded incredulous and disbelieving, a little shocked as well.

"Not long, no." Was Talon's matter of fact reply, he chose to omit mention of his strong performance and special courses.

"Has it gotten that bad?" Talon was not sure if he should be offended by that. But the Major was not done yet. "Do they have to promote people this quickly to fill the hole?" Talon looked at him quizzically. The Lieutenant Commander knew as well as anyone that the Empire was desperate for officers. But the Major seemed to think that Talon was an indicator that the situation was far worse than even the Lieutenant Commander believed.

Picking up on Talon's silent disbelief the Major continued, in a tone only achievable by old timers speaking to young pups. 

"In my day an officer would have had to have years of experience under their belt before they attained your grade. You have proven yourself a capable young officer, but the Empire must be having some problems if they are putting fresh faced youths into command rolls!"

It was strange, Talon had taken this man prisoner, but now it felt as though he were getting something of a lecture from his captive. That was not how this was supposed to work and though they may have been speaking as one officer to another this man was still overstepping his bounds. Casting a slightly annoyed sideways glance at the Major, Talon narrowed his eyes and retorted quietly.

"Promotions and appointments are made as necessary, and scarcely rashly. Need I remind you who has emerged the victor today?"

For a moment the Major seemed to forget the situation he was in, a slightly insidious yet gentle and knowing smile spread across his face, perhaps on the edge of saying something like 'now now an officer should not be so sensitive.' But then he remembered the trailing feet and hanging heads behind him. Reminded of the reality of his situation he simply hung his head for a moment as well and gave a little groan of admission and resignation. But he did not quite seem ready to drop the point yet as he piped up once more.

"When I was about your age, straight out of the Academy on Coruscant, Regimental command kept me as a junior Lieutenant for years and years, they were slow to make me a full Lieutenant, let alone a Captain or more!" But Talon was no longer focusing on the issue of age, a subject that would have started to vex him had the Major not said something that demanded rather more attention, the reference to the Capitol.

"You were Imperial trained?" Talon asked, with a slightly surprised air. Then adding as a light aside. "It would explain the proper form and manners." The Major let out a hearty chuckle at that observation but didn't comment on it. Instead he just said.   
"Aye, that I was. I was in the Emperor's service for over ten years. Everyone still believed in him coming out of the Clone War, the Rebellion was still a fringe group. But of course, that all changed." Talon was torn between curiosity and a sudden urge to verbally berate this man, shame him and scold him for hours for his treasonous conduct. It was one thing to fight for the Rebellion from the very beginning. But to serve the Empire and then turn against your brothers in arms? That was almost unforgivable. But it was Talon's curiosity that won out, though his tone and choice of words betrayed his disgust.

"Why betray the Empire, why turn on your friends and brothers? Why commit high treason?" The reply Talon got was almost biting in its ferocity and surprising in its suddenness.

"I betrayed nothing! I signed on to defend the people of the galaxy, to uphold a set of decent values. It was the Empire that betrayed those values!" Now the Major was starting to really get under Talon's skin. The flawed morality and reasoning of the Rebels, in his opinion, and the fact this man had betrayed his brothers came together to instil Talon with his own righteous fury. But he kept a lid on it, as men of his stripe often did. Instead, only a slight twinge in his voice hinted at his disgust and fury.

"The Empire can rightly demand the fealty of her citizens! Furthermore, she and she alone represents law, order, legitimate government and the proper constitutional succession. Why turn against that?"

"Alderaan."Came the glib, if somewhat weighty, reply.

"Alderaan?" Came Talon's response, again with a slight air of disbelief as if the man had just cited a triviality to justify a weighty offence.

"Yes, Alderaan! I had my suspicions before. But the destruction of an entire world! Who knows how many civilians were wiped out in an instant? It was not even a military target!" As wounded as this man was he was beginning to raise his voice, some of the prisoners behind him began to murmur slightly. Talon was forced to try and bring the mood back down by replying in a near whisper. It was a harsh whisper, but a whisper none the less.

"You have been listening to too much of your own propaganda. Alderaan was a legitimate military target, a vital source of information gathering for the Rebellion and a base for their intelligence operations. Arms and munitions were also being sent there for rebellion pick up under the flag of Alderaan royalty. The government of Alderaan was a part of the Rebellion, a wing of their logistics and intelligence machine."

"That's not true and you know it." Came the similarly quiet but impassioned reply.

"I trust the intelligence." Retorted Talon, as if that were supposed to be enough to end the argument. A notion quickly quashed by the Major's response.

"Then you are a fool. And even if it was true. Launch surgical strikes against the bases! Do not wipe out a whole world!" By now the Major was starting to vex Talon, and it showed in the undisguised frustration in his response.

"Civilian density on Alderaan was relatively low and the projected amount of Rebel agents on the ground justified the strike. If you conduct a conventional bombing raid on a factory you will kill civilians. It is a sad necessity of war. The same principle applied then, only on a grander scale. The destruction of Alderaan and the Intelligence network festering there saved countless millions of lives across the wider galaxy. I agree, the civilian death toll was high, too high for my tastes and as a professional soldier I strive to prevent needless civilian death. I might have tried to find another way. But, there was still a good and sensible rationale behind the decision, with the best interests of the Empire and her citizens at heart. It is by no means a good enough excuse to turn traitor!" By the end of that little spiel Talon's temper was starting to wear thin and it showed. His eyes were just a little too wide, his tone just a little too clipped and forceful. Seemingly unaware of this the Major began.

"The deaths of..." But he was not allowed to finish that sentence.

"You are starting to wear out the privilege enjoyed by officers in speaking to one another. Soon you will cross the line into inciting rebellion and attempting to corrupt and Imperial officer. Such charges would make you a spy, not a soldier. I don't need to tell you what that means." Talon was right on that count, the Major seemed to grow pale and his steps faltered, even more than his limp would have accounted for. To be classed as a spy meant you lost any and all protections the law might have given him as a prisoner of war. To be labelled an enemy agent almost ensured an interrogation and an unpleasant execution.

But still, the Major was not done, saying in calmer, more subdued tones.

"I hope for your sake that, when the day comes that they ask you to do something even you can't stomach, that you will not be too deep in to get out."

"Stop talking." Was Talon's only, and forceful, reply. The rest of their brief time together passed in silence, a tense and agitated silence until the Major and his men disappeared into the belly of the Resolve, to meet up with the rest of the prisoners. It was whilst the Major was walking away, long out of earshot, that Talon found himself reflecting on the extent and consequences of the Major's betrayal. How many of that Major's old friends had died as a result of that man, of the secrets he would have divulged? How many civilians were killed in the strikes that his information would surely have caused? How many of his former comrades had he killed with his own hands? How may good, loyal Imperials that Talon himself had known had died due to that man? It was whilst he was thinking this that he found himself muttering the words. "Rebel scum." With a venom worthy of Jan.

But with today's marvellous events Talon's mood could not stay foul for long, and it only improved when the welcome sight of Lani came lightly down the corridor with a feline step. But it was not only the sight of Lani that buoyed Talon's spirits. But what the trooper was holding as well. In each hand there was a steaming cup of caffa, a drink Talon desperately needed.

Settling down on a piece of buckled scaffolding, looking out across the wastes, Lani perched next to him and passed the chilly Lieutenant Commander a warming cup.

"Drink this up sir. You were a damn fool for going out there without even trying to wrap up warm." Lani's tone was mildly scolding, but only mildly. Talon began to retort.

"Protocol demanded..." Before he was swiftly interrupted.

"You were still a damn fool, now shut up and drink." There was not a hint of hostility in Lani's words, only a fond natured teasing. Had anyone else been present, or had it been many other people other than Lani, Talon might have put someone in their place for such a tone. But here, today, he was going to let it slide. Talon flirted with the idea of making Lani head of the troopers, the scout was certainly easier to work with than Jan. But Talon could not deny that Jan was damned effective, and demoting him might prompt a mutiny. Raising the cup to his lips he took a long, slow draw of the precious liquid.

"Thank you Lani... ahh that's good." He almost seemed to shiver slightly as he said that, sounding like he was an addict getting a long overdue fix. It was not long until he was eagerly tucking away at it again, cradling the mug in both hands in an attempt to warm his gloved palms.

"Calm down sir. It's not that good!" Stated Lani, in mild surprise. "The machine's half busted. I'd look out for grease and oil in there if I were you." But Talon's enjoyment seemed unabated. Lani meanwhile unfastened a little plastic tube beneath the chin of that distinctive helmet and stick it into their own drink, using it as a straw to suck up the steaming caffa.

Talon had seen this before, it was a standard design feature which allowed troopers to eat liquid ration packs in chemical warfare zones without removing their helmet. But there was no risk of that here.

"Why don't you remove your helmet Lani?" Enquired the Lieutenant. Lani answered by gesturing to the horizon and the crest of the hill whilst sucking, before taking a pause to simply say.

"Snipers." In an almost dismissive tone.

"Oh, so you stay safe in your helmet but you let me sit here, my head wide open!" Replied Talon, not offended but obviously having a joke with the imaginary threat.

"Who ever said I cared about you sir?" Replied Lani, in similarly light tones. Talon had only to gesture to his cup of caffa to wordlessly make his point. "Okay you got me there." Replied Lani. "But you might not want me to take off my helmet. I could look like Jan under here!"

"You know, I still haven't seen his face." He said, casting a sideways look at Lani and raising a curious eyebrow.

"Trust me, you don't want to. He looks like a dog that has been through far too many pit fights." Lani seemed to chuckle slightly at the idea. Conjuring up Jan's face in his mind Talon joined in the laughter stating.

"I can imagine." But Lani, still with an amused air, was quick to correct him.

"No you can't." Surprised at this retort, and his imagination now working overtime, Talon went momentarily wide eyed with a mixture of shock and appal as the most horrid and battered face he could envisage drifted across the theatre of his mind.

Upon seeing this Lani burst out into a merry, light laugh and slapped Talon on the back, causing the Lieutenant Commander to grin sheepishly, slightly confused at the extremely friendly display. Confused, but grateful. He was tempted to press the issue about the helmet, but he suspect Lani was evading him for a reason and he felt too well disposed to the trooper to push the topic. Instead he commented.

"I hear a scout trooper ran out into open territory and single handed blew up an attack tank, causing the remainder of the Rebel charge to surrender. I don't suppose you would happen to know which one of your boys that was?" Said Talon, knowing full well it was Lani, and with a semi sarcastic tone that showed it.

"I might." Was Lani's reply, in an evasive and equally tongue in cheek way. "Why?"

"Oh I don't know." Talon shrugged his shoulders before casually running of a little list in between sips of caffa. "Mentioned in dispatches, increased ration allotment for a while. Extended mail privileges, that kind of thing. Still. If they didn't make enough of an impression on you to remember their name it can't have been that impressive." Without even looking at Lani he kept on drinking to humorously reinforce the idea of just how insignificant the effort must have been.

"You a shab sir." Said Lani, still clearly having a good time. But it was an interesting choice of words, something Talon didn't immediately pick up on.

"I know." Was his retort. Before adding. "But for insulting a senior officer I'm afraid I now have to revoke your privileges." The man was grinning like a Cheshire cat, but his tone was completely deadpan. Had he not been alone with Lani he would not have dared to have nearly so much fun, nor would he have been so relaxed. But, isolated as they were, he could afford a much needed moment of fun and even frivolity!

"You utter, utter shab!" Cried Lani, a little louder and on the edge of her offence no longer being feigned. Talon just laughed though as the scout trooper seemed to fume underneath their armour.

"You’re just digging yourself in deeper trooper!" Declared Talon, though his chuckles, a little healthy pallor returning to his cheeks before waving Lani into calm. "Don't worry your little head. You'll get the lot."

"You're still a shab for teasing me like that!" Protested Lani, calming down but on the edge of a sulk.

"Yep." Agreed Talon, a broad smile still plastered across his face.

The duo could have continued for a little while but their conversation was cut short by the booms of a few new ships entering the atmosphere. It had been roughly thirty minutes since the TIE fighters had streamed forth from the sky. It was about time a ground team arrived! Talon was not disappointed when he saw several shuttles emerge from the heavens and land close by. With his communication equipment down he was looking forward to seeing the faces of his saviours. But he was even more looking forward to the emergency medical teams that were doubtless on those craft. In truth he was slightly vexed that they had taken a half hour to land. But he could scarcely blame them for their caution. With the Resolve unable to send or receive messages other than an automated distress beacon their rescuers would be unable to confirm a safe landing zone, necessitating a slower approach.

Draining the last of his caffa he saw to the neatness of his hat and his uniform and began to stride forward to greet his new guests, once again ignoring the bracing wind and sub-zero temperatures. Lani just gave a sigh and a shake of the head before accompanying the Lieutenant Commander, who was clearly too stupid to look after himself.

As Talon strode forward medical crews and storm troopers alike poured out of the various shuttles and began tearing into the ship, bringing advanced tools and mobile bacta submersion tanks with them. Every man amongst them painfully aware that there would be patients within the Resolve where a few short minutes would make all the difference. Talon meanwhile, was cutting a way through the swarm and heading for the centre most shuttle. Coming down the imposing ramp Talon could make out the form of a fellow Imperial officer, a Captain judging by his rank badges. Striding up to the man Talon came to a parade ground snap and saluted sharply, and remained there, like a ram rod until the Captain returned the gesture, with an altogether more casual air not even pausing as he ambled off of the walkway.

The formalities observed Talon seemed to relax as well, smiling easily, and speaking as one officer to another.

"Good evening Lieutenant Commander." Said the man with the semi aristocratic accent seemingly so common amongst the Imperial top brass. He had only been able to tell Talon held such a post by his rank badges. "Sorry it took us a little while to arrive at the ball." Stretching out a hand and shaking Talon's vigorously the man said. "Captain Allras at your service!"

"No need to worry Captain! You are just in time for the last dance! Lieutenant Commander Talon Rake! Much obliged!" Talon was calling out over the noise of men, engines and wind, almost having to shout to make himself heard. The Captain paused in a moment of curiosity.

"Lieutenant Commander Rake? Crew manifest had someone else in the number two slot." Cried out the Captain, at similar volume.

"Battlefield promotion, the Commander is alive but incapacitated. I've been trying to keep things together here since the crash!" By now the duo were walking away from the shuttle and heading back towards the Resolve, the newly arrived Captain occasionally pausing to give orders to his men.

"You've done a bit more than keep things together it would seem! Gave these New Republic boys a fair old licking!" Said the Captain, with a bit of a laugh in his voice and giving Talon a congratulatory slap on the back.

"We did what we could, but we took a bit of a pounding ourselves. You and your men arrived just in time Captain!" The Captain gave another small chuckle but kept striding forward.

"Glad to be of assistance. But we can debrief you back aboard my ship. We need to move quickly. I ran off the vessels overhead, but they will be back and with something bigger next time. Load all the vital supplies you can, then each man can take what he can carry and we are leaving this rock. We'll have to detonate the core of course. Can't leave any salvageable data or parts behind for the Rebels." Talon's heart could not help but sink at that idea. He had called the Resolve home for a little while now and had grown accustomed to her crannies and corridors. Even when she lay near dead on the Planet's surface she still felt somehow oddly alive. The creaks of metal and the rumble of failing systems were like the death groans of an aged but much loved whale. The Resolve was older than he was, she had a long and distinguished career. Ending it like this seemed wrong somehow. Wrong, but utterly necessary.

Nodding his head Talon said solemnly

"Of course, of course." Before adding, almost as an afterthought when he rose from his ruminations. "I have prisoners as well, about one hundred and fifty of them. They will need shipping to."

"That's not an issue. We will take them back for processing. Intelligence might want to ask a few questions." Talon nodded his head at this sentence, seemingly unaware of just what that implied.

"Indeed. I almost feel sorry for them, having to live out the rest of the war in a POW camp. Sadly it looks as though it is going to be a long, long war." Talon appeared crestfallen at that notion, and understandably so. Many of his older colleagues had been fighting for over a decade, seemingly without pause and there was still no end in sight. No one in their right mind relished a long war.

But the Captain was not about to dwell on this point as he declared.

"It does indeed. But let's not waste any more time Lieutenant Commander! To business!"  
"Yes sir!" Snapped Talon and with that the two set off into the tattered remains of the Resolve. Talon spent quite some time doing what any commanding officer should, coordinating the loading of supplies, checking the crew manifests, taking lists of the dead, recovering what bodies he could, securing and destroying sensitive data and so on. As he did so nothing seemed quite real, it was as if everything was just an echo off from the material world, everything a little out of focus. He was still recovering from the news that he would have to detonate the Resolve. He always knew it was going to happen. There was no way this old girl would fly again. But as ready for it as he thought it was the whole things was still more than a little unsettling .

After some time, when only the last few people were left aboard, rigging the core to blow, Talon took a moment to head into the shattered and crushed bowls of the ship, towards the crew quarters. Of the sections of the vessel which still remained attached to the Resolve this was one of the worst hit areas. The crumple of the impact, the heat of the blast and the atmosphere, the force of the torpedoes, all had helped bend this little part of the ship beyond almost all recognition. Talon was familiar with these corridors, or at least he had been, for he could have sworn some rights were now lefts and the number of times he had to go vertically up or down was alarming. Eventually though, crawling through tiny gaps and clambering over fallen girders, he reached a familiar door. His door. It was a non-descript thing for, what had been until recently, a non-descript officer.

His room had always been small, but now it was miniscule and twisted, bisected by a great durasteel pole that had been propelled straight through the room by some phenomenal force. Reaching under the crushed remains of his bed Talon drew out a great kit bag, into which he began placing a few choice items. The first thing he saved was his dress uniform, complete with his scant few awards and a copy of his commission. He could have had it replaced easily enough but he had become attached to that thing and was loath to depart with the original. The second thing he saved was a small collection of data pads, on which were various personal items such as his infrequently kept diary, a healthy smattering of family photographs and various other bits and bobs. Beyond that he had not brought many personal items aboard the Resolve, largely because he knew he would be reassigned eventually and the life of a military man does not lend itself to hauling around large amounts of trinkets.

But searching feverishly across the floor, through the remains of draws and under rubble Talon was scampering around for one last item. Eventually he found it, just as the panic at the idea it might be lost forever really began to set in, a paper envelope, covered in dust from the debris but otherwise untouched. It contained a hand written letter from his father, a rare thing in today's world of data pads, electronic storage and faster than light communication. It had been given to Talon on the day of his commissioning and he could not bring himself to part with it. He might have taken the time to read it for the thousandth time were it not for the approaching Rebels and the destabilising core.

He was about to leave when he paused for a moment and looked back. On impulse he reached out and grabbed a shard of metal that had broken free and was lying on the ground. He might be about to destroy this aged warhorse. But he could still not bring himself to truly abandon her. He was going to take a little bit of it with him. A little bit of the Resolve would take to the sky again and soar amongst the stars!

But with that done it was time to finish this rotten business. Tradition demanded that Talon be the last man off of his ship, and Talon was not about to break with custom during a solemn event like this. Shepherding the last of his crew men off of the wreck he looked back at the old thing and thought of all her battles, of all her crew, both present and past. Of all the stories that had taken place over the decades in those halls, tales of glory and tales of shame, of lives lost and battles won. It was slowly, and with a heavy heart, that Talon lifted his boot from the cold metal of the Resolve, knowing that no one would ever set foot on her again.

A short while later he was aboard the final shuttle, tearing up out of the atmosphere. Moments before reaching the cold vacuum of space there was a blinding flash of light behind them, followed by a shake and a low, loud boom, as the core of the Resolve went up. Talon had thought himself ready for the blast, he had braced for the flash and shock. But still, its sheer scale caught him by surprise. Metal was turned into mist at the heart of the explosion, everything in the Resolve steamed and melted. Talon could have sworn he heard a woman cry somewhere in the inferno, a great metallic wail of twisting girders and vaporising plastics. Perhaps the soul of the Resolve crying out one last time. Such a noise was imagined of course, but the imagination could be powerful.

But imaginary or real Talon could not dwell on it for long. Soon the shuttle broke through the outermost reaches of the atmosphere and into open space. Before him lay a great Imperial star destroyer, squatting in the sky like a floating fortress. The presence of but one of these intimidating cruisers seemed to project the unquestionable air if Imperial authority into the space around it. Wherever these iconic vessels sailed, there was the Empire. It was into the belly of this noble beast that Talon flew, into safety. Soon the flight back to the fleet would begin, where a most unexpected surprise awaited him.

His time aboard the Resolve was over, the Resolve itself was over. But for the young Lieutenant Commander, his war was just beginning. Barring the cruel twists of fate so often thrust upon a man in combat, his career still had many years left to run. He was surrounded by a fast changing galaxy, the chaos which swirled amongst the stars threatened to tip into full blown disaster on any given day. Old friends of the proper order had become enemies, whilst some old enemies were becoming strange new friends. It was into this tumultuous time that Talon Rake would sail, and it was the Resolve that marked the beginning of the transformation into the officer he would one day become.


End file.
